Fallen Dreams
by JediKnightCaraD
Summary: When a traveling acrobat sustains a terrible injury, it is up to Dr. Mike to try and save them. Meanwhile, the Reverend finds himself falling for the beautiful but unorthodox new woman in town. **T for graphic medical descriptions**
1. Chapter 1

Children of 1868 Colorado Springs were often admonished to be seen and not heard, but anyone within a quarter mile of the little red schoolhouse certainly heard the din they generated when they got out of school.

It was just after three in the afternoon, and the schoolhouse had just emptied. Children ranging in age from five to sixteen walked, ran, or skipped away, usually clustered in groups of friends or clinging to the hand of an older sibling.

Two siblings in particular were not sticking closely to each other. Colleen Cooper, a blond girl of nearly fifteen, was at least fifty feet ahead of her ten year old brother, Brian. Colleen walked with a quick step, books in her arms, while Brian straggled along behind, all but dragging his books by their strap.

Colleen paused, groaned, and looked skyward before turning around to face her brother. "Brian, come on."

Brian sighed and jogged to catch up. "I'm comin'!" His pace once again slowed as he pulled the dreaded piece of paper out of his back pocket.

It was a history test, marked with a large red 'F'. Brian cringed to think of what his adoptive mother would say. Dr. Mike was very particular about education, and Brian's grades had never been so poor before.

"Brian!" Colleen scolded. Once again her brother had fallen behind.

Brian ran up to his sister again, grimacing at the bad grade. "Whaddya think Ma'll say?"

Colleen shrugged. "I dunno. She won't be happy, that's for sure. You know how she feels about school."

The towheaded boy hunched his shoulders. "Think she'll be mad?"

Colleen frowned. As much noise as the doctor made about 'book-learning', she had never actually gotten angry over grades. "She never has before...and you're not gonna help any by draggin' your feet. Come on."

Brian sighed and stuffed the paper back in his pocket.

Neither of the children noticed the approaching hoofbeats. Horses were so commonplace that they didn't even think about the fact that these hoofbeats were not coming from town...they came from the little road that went past the church and the schoolhouse and headed West.

"'Scuse me," called a quiet voice.

Both children looked up to see a rider in travel-worn trousers, boots, shirt, jacket, and hat seated atop a skittish young bay gelding. The rider, judging by his clean-shaven face and voice that was not quite deep, was a very young man. "Could you tell me where I might find the Queen of Hearts circus?"

Both Brian and Colleen pricked their ears and turned to regard the young stranger with surprise. "Heart and Atlantis?" asked Colleen eagerly.

The rider straightened his spine in the saddle. "That's it. You know 'em?"

Brian nodded eagerly. "Yeah! We were even in their circus."

The stranger raised his thin brown eyebrows. "Really? So, let me guess...you were the lion-tamer right?"

Brian giggled. "No. I was a clown. My sister here walked the tightrope. So did my big brother."

Colleen judged Brian's shoulder, blushing in embarrassment. "Brian," she scolded softly.

"Aha!" cried the rider. "Then I find myself in the company of fellow performers!" He flashed a grin and began looking about. "Tell me, where can I find them?"

"Oh...they left already," admitted Colleen.

"How long ago?" asked the rider, his smile fading.

"At least four months."

The rider sighed and slapped his thigh in disappointment. "And I was hoping to meet up with them. Rode all the way from Sacramento just 'cause I heard they'd be here!" He turned to the children again. "Did they say where they'd be headed next?"

Brian chewed his lip. "Didn't they say they were going to New York?"

Colleen shook her head. "No. Remember? Heart said they were leaving the circus business."

The rider looked all the more crestfallen at the news. He slouched in the saddle. "Oh boy. Then I really missed the boat." He gave the children a strained, halfhearted smile. "Thanks anyway."

A sudden gust of wind blew by, carrying with it leaves and dust. The bay horse spooked at it, skittering about and whinnying.

The rider steadied his frightened mount. "Whoa! Steady, boy. Steady." Quickly he dismounted and stroked the horses' neck. "He doesn't take to wind too much. Easy, there, fella." He took the reins and began to walk him toward town.

"You said you came all the way from Sacramento?" asked Colleen in awe.

"Yup," said the rider with a nod.

"Wow. Hey, how come you want to join the circus?" asked Brian, curious.

"Like I said, I'm a performer."

"What do you do?"

"Oh...it's kind of hard to explain..." His voice faded as he surveyed the large expanse of grass between the schoolhouse and the church. A slight grin touched his face. "How about I just show you?"

Brian's eyes lit up. "Yeah!"

The rider grinned and nodded. "All right, then." He tied the horse to a nearby tree, pulled off his boots and jacket, and rolled sleeves and pant legs up to his elbows and knees. Then, without a word, he began walking on his hands. He walked about twenty steps before doing a complete 180 and going down on his feet.

Colleen and Brian's eyes were wide with admiration. "You're an acrobat?" exclaimed Colleen.

The young man smirked. "Oh, that's nothing." And with that, he reared back, took a running start, and executed a couple of perfect back handsprings, ending in a backflip. Through it all, his hat had somehow stayed squarely on his head. He rose and grinned, but that grin faded when he heard the loud cheers of the other schoolchildren, who had gathered to watch. Even the Reverend, who had just exited the church with a book under his arm, stood with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. The young acrobat blushed and quickly got himself in order.

"Wow!" exclaimed Brian in envy.

"That was amazing," said Colleen, her eyes still wide. "How did you do that?"

"Lots and lots of practice...and lots of falling down," the boy admitted, pulling his boots back on and gathering the reins of his horse. He then turned back to the children. "Listen, could you tell me where I might find a blacksmith? My horse needs shoeing, bad."

Brian nodded eagerly and pointed down the street. "Sure! Robert E. has a shop right down there."

The young man nodded back. "Thanks...Brian, right?"

Brian nodded.

With that, the stranger mounted his horse, tipped his hat, and rode off toward Robert E's blacksmith shop.

Brian watched him for a long while, then sighed wistfully. "Wish I could learnt to do that."

Colleen cringed. "Dr Mike would never let you. She'd say it was too dangerous."

Brian shrugged. "I know...hey, I bet Ma would want to hear about the acrobat!" and he took off running, not heeding his sister's calls. Perhaps the exciting news would distract his 'ma' from his bad grade.

The town clinic, sitting in the old boardinghouse that the late Charlotte Cooper had run, was easy enough to find. It had a large green sign with the name of the doctor: Michaela Quinn. Having a lady doctor was a source of both pride and embarrassment for the town. Most still felt a woman's place was at home, but could not argue that the opinionated doctor's skills had saved about half the town...more than once.

At the moment the doctor had had a rather quiet day. The only patient who had come in was a little girl of about five years old. She had gotten too close to her father's axe and accidentally cut her finger. Her parents were petrified that she'd lose the finger, but the doctor had assured them that it wouldn't happen. At the moment she was carefully stitching the wound shut.

At that moment, Brian burst in the door, followed by Colleen. "Ma! Guess what we-"

"Brian!" scolded Michaela. "You know better than to burst in here like that." The sudden noise had made all of them jump, and the doctor feared she would do more damage to the wound with the movement. The little girl burst into tears.

Both of the Cooper children's faces were stricken with guilt. Brian hunched his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Ma. I just wanted to tell you-"

"Whatever it is, it can hold for another minute," said Michaela with a frown. "Go wait outside."

Brian, crestfallen, hung his head and walked over to slump on the bench.

Meanwhile Colleen had apologized in her own way and stepped cautiously inside. "What happened?" she asked, trying to comfort the little girl and see what Dr. Mike was doing. "Anything I can help with?" Colleen was the least squeamish girl in town, and was fascinated by medicine. She often assisted the doctor with different cases.

Michaela's features evened somewhat. "No, I don't think so. But thank you for offering..." Her voice faded away as the door was shut.

Brian slouched dejectedly on the bench outside. Nothing seemed to be going right! First, his big brother Matthew had been called out to help on Miss Olive's ranch for a week...then he had flunked the history test...then he'd gotten an earful from Colleen...and now, Dr. Mike was mad at him, and she hadn't even seen his test paper yet. _Today was awful,_ he decided. The boy looked up and searched the streets for his new friend, the acrobat.

The short, smooth-faced young man was not at Robert E's blacksmith shop. That was odd. He'd said his horse needed shoeing, and that took at least a couple of hours. Brian frowned and let his eyes roam across the dusty road, looking for the talented tumbler. He soon caught sight of the skittish bay horse tethered to the hitching post outside Bray's General Store. In minutes the young man himself emerged, a canvas food bag in either hand. They looked to be full of beans and cornmeal. As he loaded the supplies into his saddle bags, he chewed busily on a chunk of something in his mouth. He didn't spit...in fact, he swallowed, meaning it wasn't tobacco. It had to be candy.

Brian smiled a little. He didn't think anyone older than he had a sweet tooth. Perhaps he could ask the acrobat what his favorite kind was.

But no...the acrobat had mounted his horse and rode off at a trot for the edge of town. Apparently his horse had not needed shoeing as much as he had said and his top priority was leaving the area. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Brian's heart sank. So much for making a new friend! This day just kept getting worse and worse. Regretfully he pulled the marked-up paper out of his pocket and stared at it. He still dreaded telling Dr. Mike about it.

Unfortunately the worst was yet to come. A sudden gust of wind took the paper out of Brian's hand and blew it down the street.

"Oh, no!" Brian leapt to his feet and chased after the wayward test. He did not see where it was headed...right for the acrobat's skittish bay gelding.

The paper had only to dance before the horse's nose for the animal to go ballistic. He reared, whinnied, and pawed the air.

"Whoa!" The acrobat clung desperately to the saddle, but this time he could not hold on. He slid off and fell hard on his backside, head snapping down to hit the dusty ground. As his horse galloped away with several men in pursuit, he did not rise or even stir. His eyes were closed as if in sleep.

Brian, who had since caught his paper, watched the scene with wide eyes. Without hesitation he turned around and raced back toward the clinic. "Ma!" he cried in alarm. "Ma!"

Dr. Michaela Quinn had just finished tying off the bandage for little Mary Coleman's finger when she heard Brian calling for her. For a moment her patience with her son was just about gone. What was going on with him lately? The woman shook her head, had Colleen finish the job, and stepped outside with a frown. When she saw the frantic look on his adopted son's face- and the commotion across the street -she knew something was wrong. "Brian?"

"Ma, you gotta help him," pleaded the boy, pointing across the street.

"Who?" asked the doctor, trying to see what the commotion was about.

"The acrobat. I was gonna tell you about him. He fell off his horse," explained Brian. "He's not movin'."

Michaela nodded. "Brian, stay here," she ordered, taking off across the street to push her way through the quickly-forming crowd. After a great deal of 'excuse me, please', she reached the fallen rider. He looked rather young and lay as one asleep. There was no blood, but that didn't necessarily mean anything one way or the other. Carefully she reached to take his pulse. It was strong, but..."Can someone help me get him to the clinic, please?"

Immediately both Jake Slicker, the barber, and another tall man reached to pick the unconscious youth off the ground.

The hat fell off in the process, letting a cascade of soft brown curls fall loose. The truth of the matter made the crowd gasp in alarm. Even Dr. Mike was taken aback.

The rider was not a young man after all. It was a woman.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ma'am, I told you, I'm fine," insisted the oddly-dressed woman, lying restlessly on the exam table while Colleen and Brian looked on. "Just got the wind knocked out of me, is all." She tried to rise, but was held down.

She was of average height and build, though perhaps a bit more solid than any other woman in town, especially in the lower legs and arms. Her age appeared to be about ten years younger than Dr. Quinn. She had not been unconscious long, and awakened mere seconds after being carried into the clinic by Jake Slicker, who had since left.

Dr. Quinn frowned. Despite not finding the slightest hint of a broken bone or even a scratch, she was still not convinced that the woman was unscathed. "Please, lie still." She sighed and pulled out an opthomalscope to peer in the younger woman's eyes. "You may have a concussion. Do you remember what happened?"

The woman sighed. "Jasper spooked and threw me and I woke up in here."

The doctor's face was marred by both concentration and concern as she set down the complex instrument and ran her fingers through the woman's hair. She palpated the scalp for any bumps or cuts. "How is your head feeling?"

"Kinda sore, but not too bad."

"Any dizziness or blurred vision?"

"No." The woman sighed, aggravated. "I need to see to Jasper. He must have run off after he threw me-"

"Your horse is fine. Robert E has him," said the doctor quietly. She pulled back with a sigh of her own. "I don't feel any bumps...you say there's not dizziness at all?"

"No, ma'am. Just a little headache."

"Do you remember your name?"

"Clara Braun. Came to town looking for the circus, but found out they'd moved on."

Colleen stepped forward and nodded. "That's what she told us, Dr. Mike," shrugged the girl.

Dr. Quinn sighed softly and backed, allowing the woman to sit up. "Well, Miss Braun, from what I can see, you're suffering no more than a mild concussion. Still, I would feel better if you were to stay in town for a few days. I'd like to keep you under observation to be certain there's no brain damage."

The woman flinched. "Oh...no, ma'am. I can't. I have to get going." She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Michaela frowned. "Are you sure? I've dealt with head injuries before and they can be very difficult to diagnose properly in only a few minutes." Memories of what had happened to Brian two years before danced about in the doctor's head. She suppressed a shudder and pushed the images aside.

Clara shook her head and rose to her feet. "I told you, doctor, I'm-" Suddenly her head spun and her legs gave out beneath her. She sank to the floor.

Quickly the doctor dropped next to her patient, catching her on the way down. "Are you all right?"

Clara blushed in embarrassment. "I think so. Just got kinda dizzy for a sec."

Michaela pursed her lips. "You really should rest. Here, sit down. I'll give you something for your head." She helped the woman up and over to a nearby chair. "Colleen, could you get me the aspirin powder, please?"

Colleen, always eager to help, nodded and fished the small bottle of white powder down from a shelf. and handed it to Michaela. "Sure."

"Thank you." Dr Quinn filled a glass halfway with water from a nearby pitcher and began mixing a white powder into it. After handing it to Clara, she glanced at the children. "Go wait outside. I'll be there in a minute."

Colleen nodded and started outside, but Brian hesitated. "Ma?"

Dr Quinn sighed. "No arguments, Brian."

"But..." Brian bit his lip and shrugged. 'I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Brian," said Michaela with a slight smile. "Go on."

"No, I mean..." The boy sighed, hung his head for a moment, then glanced at the woman. "I am sorry I came in like I did, but I wanted to say I'm sorry to Miss Clara."

Clara, making a face after sipping the drugged water, exchanged a perplexed glance with Michaela. "For what, kiddo?"

Brian twiddled his thumbs. "It's my fault you got thrown." He turned to his adoptive mother and pulled something out of his pocket. "See, Ma...I got a bad grade in the history test and didn't want you to see. I's afraid you'd be mad. I thought maybe tellin' you about the acrobat might not make you think of it. The paper blew out of my hand and spooked Miss Clara's horse, and well...I'm sorry." The towheaded young boy hung his head.

Clara gave a slight smile. "Aw, it wasn't your fault. You didn't want me to get thrown. Jasper's as good a horse as anyone could want, but he's young. He could have spooked at anything."

Michaela nodded, bending over to look Brian in the eye. "She's right, Brian. You can't blame yourself. As for your grades...well, you know all I ask is that you do your best." She kissed the top of his head. "We'll talk about it at home. Go on."

Brian managed a sheepish smile before heading out the door with Colleen.

"So doc," began Clara after downing the rest of the medicine. "How long am I gonna be stuck here?"

"If your symptoms improve you should be all right in a few days," said Michaela, ever the optimist.

"You, uh...don't happen to know where I might find a hotel, do you?"

"Oh. The nearest one is in Denver."

Clara grimaced and sighed. "Thought so. Well, it's a good thing I brought a tent."

The doctor's face froze. "Haven't you any family in the area?"

Clara shook her head. "No, ma'am. Left them all back in Sacramento. Besides, Jasper and I have camped out plenty. Another couple of days isn't going to hurt." She rose carefully to her feet.

Michaela flinched at the idea of a young, injured woman camping out alone in the woods. "Why don't you stay at our place? It would be much safer. After all, the cover of being a young man no longer exists."

The young woman grimaced, taking a step back and playing with her hat. "You have a point...but I couldn't impose."

The doctor shrugged. "It's no trouble. With as enthusiastic as the children seem to be, I doubt they'll object."

Clara bit her lip. "It's a very kind offer, but...I'll have to think it over. As it is, I really do need to see to my horse."

Michaela's shoulders fell in worry, but she nodded. "Very well." Much as she didn't like it, she couldn't very well detain a grown woman who was ambulatory and seemed to be in her right mind. As Clara paid her and left, the doctor found the questions arise once more. Obviously Clara dressed as a man to avoid unwanted advances...but why had she come all this way just to see a circus? Clara had mentioned she was an acrobat, but something didn't add up. Why travel alone? Why leave one's family behind to pursue such a dangerous profession in a strange town?

Dr. Quinn found herself shaking her head. _If I'm not careful, I may grow as suspicious as the rest of the town! _With a sigh, the doctor went about her work.

"He's not lame, is he?" asked Clara, stroking her skittish horses' nose in worry. Being so low on money she was loath the return, but concern for her animal outweighed any misgivings. Jasper's gait was uneven.

Robert E, the burly, dark-skinned blacksmith, nodded and patted the young gelding's flank. "He's fine. Just spooked and threw a shoe, is all."

Clara sighed in relief. She laid her head against Jasper's. "Thank God," she whispered.

Robert E. peered at the crooked, worn horse-shoe, noting the closeness between horse and rider. "He must be an awful special horse."

The young woman nodded. "Yes, sir. The best you could find. He's young...he can be kind of a lunkhead sometimes," here she laughed, "but I wouldn't trade him for anything."

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow. "Had him long?"

Clara smiled. "I raised him. It's what my family does, breed horses. See, his dam died not long after he was foaled, but I couldn't just watch him die. I found a bottle and a leather glove and I fed him. When he grew up, I broke him to saddle...he's been mine ever since."

Well, that explained the closeness between horse and rider. Robert E. cracked his own smile. "How old is he?"

Clara shrugged. "Oh, 'bout five years."

The blacksmith nodded, patting the gelding's flank. "I hate to tell you this, but I can't fix his shoe." He picked up the twisted piece of metal and handed it to the woman. "Worn down clear to the nails. All four are like that. You want to go anywhere on this horse, he'll need to be re-shod."

"How much?"

"Oh...dollar fifty."

Clara hung her head. "I can't. Don't have enough...couldn't I work it off? Won't be leaving for a day or two."

Robert E. seemed taken aback by the offer. He looked the woman up and down a couple of times, then cringed. "Sorry, ma'am. Business has been slow these last few days...normally I'd say yes, but this time I can't do a barter." Seeing her crestfallen expression, he sighed. "Seeing as how his other shoes are about ready to fall off anyhow, I'll go ahead and pull them. Won't hurt him none to go barefoot for a little while."

Clara offered a brief smile and nodded. "Thanks." She let the blacksmith lead the animal to the cross-ties and watched as he picked up the pliers and took the animal's foreleg between his knees. All the while her mind worked furiously, trying to think of a way to earn the money.

An hour later, near sunset, Clara rode her barefoot gelding out of town in a very disturbed state of mind.

Nothing had worked. She had tried returning the supplies she'd bought from Bray's General Store, but Mr. Bray wouldn't take back foodstuffs, even if they hadn't been opened. He didn't want to take on a temporary worker, either. It seemed no one in town did. Clara strongly suspected it was the fact she was female that kept anyone from letting her have even a temporary job. With the aspirin wearing off and the dizziness returning, Clara decided to call it a day and find a quiet spot to camp out. She could try to find work again in the morning.

_Wish my head would quit hurting_, thought the woman, annoyed. Abruptly her vision blurred and she rubbed her eyes, tired. She didn't hear the wagon coming up behind her.

Meanwhile, Dr. Quinn and her two children were heading home in the wagon, chatting about the day's events, when they saw a familiar shape going at a very slow walk.

Brian lifted his head with interest. "Hey, isn't that Miss Clara?"

Dr. Quinn raised her eyebrows with surprise. "Yes, I believe it is."

"Wonder what she's doin' back out here?" said Colleen with a frown.

"I don't know..." _I hope she isn't leaving yet._ Michaela frowned as they drew closer. The younger woman's posture was low and unsteady, as if she was wavering in the saddle. Finally horse and rider stopped, and Clara rubbed her head. The doctor's instinct that something was wrong kicked in, and she didn't hesitate in stopping the wagon alongside the acrobat. "Miss Braun?"

Clara lifted her head with a start, as if coming out of a doze. Her expression spoke clearly of fatigue. "Huh? Oh. Hi, Doc."

Michaela tilted her head to the side, trying to smile. "I see you found your horse."

Clara offered her own distracted smile and nod. "He's fine. Just threw a shoe." Seeing the doctor's worried look, she sighed. "Don't worry. I'm not leaving yet. Can't go far anyway, not 'till this fella gets some new shoes. Tried looking for work, but." Almost without realizing it, Clara frowned and rubbed her temples.

The doctor could bear it no longer. Her instinct to help and heal was too strong. "Are you all right?"

Clara nodded. "Fine. Just a headache."

Michaela sighed. "Have you found a place to stay?"

The brown-haired acrobat was cautious in shaking her head.

"The offer stands. You're more than welcome to stay with us."

"No, really, doc, I-" Clara bit her lip and blushed. "'Till someone sees fit to hire me, I'm broke. I couldn't."

"It's no trouble. You really shouldn't be left alone with your head the way it is. And you need rest." Michaela insisted.

"I..." Clara glanced at the children. "Wouldn't it bother the kids?"

Colleen shrugged with an air of pleasant resignation. It certainly wouldn't be the first time a patient had bunked with them...and this time it was a very interesting person from a faraway place. "Naw."

Brian's eyes, meanwhile, were bright with hope. "We wouldn't mind. Please, Miss Clara?"

Clara sighed, her defenses beginning to crack under the boy's innocent gaze. His bright blue eyes and wide, happy grin brought memories unbidden to the surface, of another little boy she was trying to forget. Blinking at her smarting eyes, Clara managed a smile and nodded. "All right. If you're sure it's no trouble."

_Thank Heavens._ Michaela's shoulders fell in relief. "None at all. Are you feeling dizzy?"

Reluctantly Clara nodded. "Some."

"Then it would be best for you to ride in the wagon."

"Yes, ma'am." With the air of a child who'd been scolded for getting her feet wet, Clara dismounted her horse and climbed into the back of the woman, holding firmly to Jasper's reins. All the way down the road to the homestead, she kept looking at Brian...


	3. Chapter 3

Between the constant stream of questions from the children, and her own fatigue, Clara could hardly eat the simply but tasty supper of beans and cornbread. It was not until the doctor's gentle admonitions to let the poor woman eat that Clara could make any progress. Still, she found that there was another child- the eldest, Matthew -who was off on some cattle ranch, and that all three of the children had been adopted.

While she felt awkward being a guest in such a small house, Clara found that just a full belly and the security of having four walls around her had made her feel much better. She'd offered to do the dishes, gather firewood- anything in exchange for the courtesy -but the redheaded doctor would have none of it. The remainder of the evening was quiet.

Clara sat shyly on the makeshift cot that had been set up in the main room, absently stroking Brian's wolf pup behind the ears.

Brian had finally finished his long-neglected homework and looked up at her, playing with his pencil. "Miss Clara?"

Dr. Quinn, who had been trying unsuccessfully to learn new crochet stitch, looked up with a frown. "Brian, no more questions. Miss Clara needs her rest."

Clara cracked a smile at the curious boy. "It's all right, Doc. Talking doesn't hurt anything." She turned to him. "Yeah?"

Brian chewed his lip. "How'd you learn how to do all that stuff...I mean, the flips and tricks you did on the grass today."

"I told you, practice," said Clara easily.

"I know, but...where'd you learn it? I never saw tricks like that before...not even at the circus," admitted Brian.

"Well..." Clara hesitated for a moment. "You might say I learned from my grandfather. See, he and Grandma came over from Germany 'bout fifty years ago. All the Brauns were acrobats, far back as anyone could remember. He taught my father and uncles, and they went all over the country...Braun's Blitz, they called it."

"So your Pa taught you?" asked Brian wistfully.

Clara's smile faded. "Not really. He didn't think flips and tumbling were proper for ladies...nobody did. But...not having any brothers..." she shrugged, embarrassed. "They didn't teach me on purpose, but I learned. Practiced every day out in the barn...'till I was caught."

Colleen quickly forgot the book she'd been reading and listened to Clara's words. "What did your family say when they found out you were doing?"

Clara looked away, face marred. "They, ah...they weren't happy. My father was livid, and so was my mother. So, they tried marrying me off...thought a man might steady me, show me my place." She gave a devilish grin, then laughed. "What they didn't know was I told every one of those fellas what I did...none of 'em ever came back. Guess nobody wanted a wife who back-flipped out of trees and walked to church on her hands."

Dr. Mike, who had given up her crochet, looked wistful herself. "Did you ever want to marry?"

"'Course! But unless I found a man who loved me for who I was, I wouldn't be courted...and who I am is an acrobat." Clara shrugged her shoulders and forced a smile.

Colleen nodded in agreement. It was hard to find anyone who wasn't just interested in one's looks, but what was in their heart and mind.

"You said you were born in Minnesota, but grew up in California?" asked Dr. Mike with interest.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What made your family come west?"

Clara laughed. "The Gold Rush hit. My father thought looking for gold might be a better living than being a poor traveling acrobat, so he packed us off and headed west in '49."

The mention of gold renewed Brian's interest, and he lifted his head eagerly. "Did you find any?"

Again, Clara laughed. "Not much...maybe a nugget or two, but not enough to make all the hard work worth it. Still, there was a better life in California, so we stayed put."

Stars danced in Colleen's eyes at the mention of a faraway place. To her, anything west of Colorado was like an enchanted land, ripe with possibility and wonder. "What's it like? I've heard about California and always wanted to go there."

Clara gave an unimpressed shrug. "Well, I'm not sure about the rest of it, but Sacramento is big and crowded...kinda dusty. But some parts are pretty, 'specially next to the river."

"Have you ever seen the ocean?"

"Once...but that was a long time ago." Clara laughed again.

"It can't be that long," remarked the doctor. "How old are you, if I might ask?"

"Twenty-eight."

"What brought you to Colorado Territory?"

Another brief look of pain crossed Clara's face. "Well...about three years ago my parents gave up on trying to find me a husband...they told me either to quit the tricks and be a lady, or leave. I left." She hung her head, staring at her lap. "I did what I could, but no one wanted to give a lady a job besides teaching. Mostly I worked with horses. Then 'bout four months ago I heard tell of a circus with a mother and daughter team. I must have chased them across half of California. I figured they'd be the only ones to give me a chance. When I heard they'd headed East, toward Colorado territory..." she shrugged.

Shock rose on the doctor's fair features. "You mean to say you rode all the way from Sacramento alone?"

Clara simply nodded.

Colleen looked at her guardian with slight defiance in her eyes. "You came out from Boston alone," she reminded.

Michaela frowned. "Yes, but that was different. I took the train." She turned back to Clara. "However did you manage?"

Clara indicated her clothing. "Well, saying I was a man made it easier to find work where I could. Nevada got awful lonesome, but I made my way. When I finally saw a river again, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven!"

The enormity of what the young woman had done brought silence to the cabin for a long while. Each person regarded Clara with a different emotion. For Colleen, there were equal parts envy and shock. For Brian, there was admiration and just a hint of envy. For the doctor, however, the overwhelming feeling was one of unease. Normally her feelings on what a woman was capable of were very liberal...but even she had her limits. She couldn't imagine traveling alone on horseback across hundreds of miles of lonesome, dangerous desert, but Clara spoke of it as though it was an afternoon jaunt. The doctor had also noticed the odd looks Clara was giving to Brian. It was unsettling.

But the long day was again showing on Clara's face, which was once more strained with sleep and pain. Michaela's Hippocratic Oath quickly overrode any other concerns and she put down her ball of yarn. "All right now, it's getting late. I want both of you to get ready for bed."

The spell of silence was broken. Colleen and Brian rose, pushed in their chairs, and retreated in different areas to obey their mother.

When the children were out of sight, Clara released the strained smile and sighed heavily, putting her head in her hands and rubbing her temple. She was annoyed but not surprised to find the doctor standing over her.

"Is your head still bothering you?" asked Dr. Quinn.

"Some," admitted Clara.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to examine you again to be sure you aren't getting worse."

Clara made a face, but couldn't argue. Her head throbbed and her eyes felt so heavy. She tried to be patient as Michaela once again checked eyes, ears, and responsiveness.

When the exam was over, Michaela sighed. "Well, you aren't any worse. Go ahead and rest. I'll have to wake you up every hour and ask you a few questions to be sure."

"Wouldn't I get better sooner if I had a good night's sleep?" Clara asked with a grimace.

"I'm sorry, but it's the only way to be sure you're still responsive. I don't want to frighten you, but with any head injury, there is always a chance of falling asleep and..." the doctor hesitated.

"And never waking up?"

Dr. Quinn nodded.

Clara kicked off her boots and eased back into the cot. "Then I suppose I'd better get started." Almost immediately her eyes began drifting shut, though she was still in her clothes. "Thanks, Doc." In another minute, the travel-weary acrobat was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Annoyed though she was at being awakened regularly during the night, Clara was quite thankful for the warm bed, the use of the barn for Jasper, and the hot breakfast the following morning. Her head had improved enough that the doctor had stopped hovering and let her go about her Saturday as she had planned...looking for a job.

It did not go much better than the previous day. News traveled quickly in such a small town, and by the end of that morning, everyone had heard of the crazy lady acrobat. As a result, Clara was greeted with stuttering people and whispers when he back was turned. It was a tiring, frustrating day...and it ended with Clara once again returning to Dr. Quinn's for the evening.

That night there was a newcomer at the supper table. He was tall and handsome, with shoulder-length, wavy brown hair, kind eyes, and a manner of dress that reminded one of Indians. He called himself Sully. Within five minutes of his coming, Clara had figured out that he and the doctor were 'courting'...a fact that the children were very happy about. Already he acted as one of the family.

Clara found herself blushing when Sully spoke kindly to her. When he had left, the young woman quickly turned to Dr. Quinn and told her point-blank how lucky she was. While embarrassed, the doctor could not argue.

"You comin' to church tomorrow, Miss Clara?" asked Brian after kissing Dr. Mike goodnight.

"Um...not to be rude, but...would I be welcome?" Clara's eyes darted back and forth. "None of the folk in town seemed to like me very much."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Michaela quickly. "It's a good town, and the people are really very friendly, once you get to know them. Just give them time. Besides, I don't think you'll need to worry about the Reverend. He's very welcoming." She smiled.

"Well..." Clara's face grew wistful. It had been ages since she had been to church. She had hovered at the door when she could while masquerading as a man, but it wasn't the same. Once again, it was the pleading look from Brian that softened her heart. She smiled. "I do miss church...all right."

Brian grinned. "Yay! Good night, Miss Clara!" He retreated to his bed.

Clara's smile faded quickly and she gave the doctor an embarrassed look. "I really hate to impose on you like this, Doc."

Michaela smiled. "I told you, it's no trouble at all. We've been glad to have you."

The woman shifted uncomfortably. "Still, I wish you'd let me do something for you...sweep up, the dishes, anything...I feel like a freeloader." She stared at her hands with a red face.

The doctor shrugged. "Nonsense...but if you'd like, perhaps I might be able to help you in looking for work. Where are your talents?"

Clara's blush deepened, and she hunched her shoulders. "Horses and hunting...it's about all I can do besides flip and tumble."

"Oh, surely there's something."

"No, ma'am. I'm a terrible cook, and as far as needlework goes, I can hardly patch my own shirts...and cooking and seamstressing is about all women are allowed to do."

Dr. Mike sighed with sympathy. "Well, perhaps the Reverend could think of something. He knows most everyone in town. You can ask him tomorrow."

Clara nodded, but somehow she doubted having a kindly reception, even at church.

By Sunday morning the town was quietly abuzz with suspicious talk and whispered rumors about the newcomer. Folk stood in tight groups in the churchyard, murmuring among themselves.

"I'm tellin' ya," barked the grouchy voice of the storekeeper, "she's a cross-dresser!"

"Oh Loren," scolded Dorothy Jennings, editor of the town gazette. "Just because a lady wears trousers, doesn't mean she's not a lady. Even Dr. Mike wears them from time to time."

Jake, who was standing nearby, frowned. "Dr. Mike doesn't hide her gender. This one does. You saw the other day, when she fell off her horse."

"What about the Colorado Stakes race?" put in Horace Bing, telegraph operator.

The others groaned, not wanting to remember the time the feisty doctor had dressed like a man to race her horse.

Dorothy hid a smile. "You're all just sore 'cause she won. Besides, I saw the young lady yesterday. She wasn't hiding who she was. Just looking for work."

"I heard she's an acrobat and came out lookin' for the circus," added Horace, somewhat confused. "Never heard of a lady acrobat before," he admitted.

"What about Heart and Atlantis?" reminded Dorothy.

"That was different. You could tell they were female right off."

"That's what I'm sayin'!" cried Loren, motioning with his hands. "It ain't natural!"

"Well, I heard she was leaving soon anyway, so-"

The sound of a wagon rattling across the bridge stopped the conversation cold. Dr. Mike, Sully, and the children all rode up cheerily into the churchyard. Riding behind them at a trot was a brown-haired woman bearing a striking resemblance to the one who had been discussed...only she was clearly a woman. Her modest dress was a dark red calico, her long brown hair tamed into a thick braid, and her plain hat adorned with a single flower.

Every man in the crowd without a woman on his arm stood up a little straighter, trying to process the scene before them. The face was identical to the one they'd seen the other day...but surely this was someone else! This lady seemed quite shy, and hung back after dismounting her horse, looking about uneasily.

While Dr. Quinn and her family happily stepped down from the wagon, Brian turned about abruptly and saw Clara standing shyly off to the side, still holding Jasper's reins. He ran up to her. "C'mon, Miss Clara! Aren't you coming?"

Clara gave a strained smile to the boy, but said nothing. Her unease increased when Colleen, Michaela, and Sully all turned about to look at her.

Michaela stepped back to her. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she said cheerfully.

Clara's stiff smile returned. "You go on ahead. I need to tie up Jasper."

Brian sighed, seeing through her excuse. At his mother's beckon, he turned about and jogged up to them as they made their way up the steps, greeting people as they went.

All Clara wanted to do was disappear. She very nearly got her wish as the congregation began retreating into the rustic building. She'd seen the suspicious looks while riding in and for a moment was tempted to turn around and go home. The want to be back in church overrode her fear, and she quickly tied Jasper to the hitching post. After the doors were closed, she hurried quietly up the steps and entered.

The church's interior was whitewashed and clean. Rows of pews lined the aisle while a pleasant-faced minister with a soft brown beard and warm eyes gathered notes at the carved, stained pulpit. A single stained glass window shone soft light into the little room.

All fear quickly vanished as the half-forgotten familiarity returned. The smells of old hymnals, pine boards, clean Sunday clothes washed away Clara's nerves with each deep breath. She slipped into the last pew, small Bible clutched protectively in her hands. As the congregation bowed their heads to pray, Clara felt the last bit of fear leave as she thought out her own prayer.

_Hey, Lord. Remember me?_

Clara had always enjoyed church, and this day was no exception. The hymns, the sermon, the prayers... everything left her feeling refreshed. This Reverend Johnson was everything a pastor should be; quiet, calm, and gentle-spirited. He did have a sense of humor, however, as evidenced by his reaction to a bird flying into the room during his sermon. Rather than be annoyed, he laughed with everyone else.

To Clara's annoyance she found herself thinking that the pastor was actually rather handsome. She ordered the unholy thought to leave, which it unfortunately did not. She resolved to be the last one out the door...hopefully after the reverend had finished greeting everyone.

What Clara did not know was that Reverend Timothy Johnson had been looking for her all morning. He remembered her stunts on Friday and grew more curious about the stranger by the hour. He had even looked for her in church, but had not noticed her tucked away in the back. When it seemed the church was empty, he found himself disappointed, though he couldn't quite tell why.

The empty church, meanwhile, helped Clara collect her thoughts. She wandered in and out of the pews...and then she saw the small upright piano against the far left wall. Heart soaring at the sight of the familiar instrument, she was overtaken by the desire to touch it. She had not seen a piano in many years and wondered why it had not been played during the service. Looking around, the woman reached out a tentative finger and tapped middle 'C'. The note was clear.

Before Clara had time to think she was sitting on the bench and running through what she remembered of the scales. C major...D major...E major...Hardly touching the keys, her fingers ran through the exercise. At the end of the B minor scale her finger slipped and accidentally hit the key. The sound made her flinch and look around to be sure no one had heard. When there was no scolding, Clara relaxed. Surely it wouldn't hurt to play on little song, would it?

And so, putting her fingers in the proper position, Clara began finding the notes to 'Wait for the Wagon'. Oh, how good it felt to be playing the piano again! Before the second verse she had forgotten everything but the music. Remembering she was in church made her repent by playing 'Simple Gifts', her mothers' favorite.

Reverend Johnson had heard the music from outside, muffled, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from until he mounted the steps, turned the corner, and looked inside. Not only was he surprised to see someone sitting at the piano, but his shock was multiplied upon realizing it was Clara, the 'cross-dressing crazy woman', playing beautifully.

Actually, he found the woman herself beautiful. Her fingers were slender and flexible, her brown hair soft and shiny, her figure shapely, and her face bright with the joy of music. It took some effort to remember not to think such things...especially in church...and on a Sunday! But somehow, the Reverend could not bring himself to interrupt the music. Only after she had finished the song did her speak. "Miss Braun?"

Clara gasped and flinched, as if she'd been stung. Her face reddened and she jumped up and backed away from the piano, face like a child who had been caught doing something naughty.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," said the Reverend quickly. He strode up the aisle. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you playing the piano."

Clara's face grew red. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have, but-"

Reverend Johnson lifted his hand. "No, that's all right. I doubt God would object." He offered a slight smile...and his hand. "Oh, pardon me. Reverend Johnson."

Clara's smile was shy as she took his hand. "Clara Braun. Pleased to meet you, Reverend. I'm so sorry..."

The Reverend shook his head pleasantly. "No, don't apologize. It was lovely...though I admit I didn't recognize the tune. Is it new?"

"Not really. It's a Shaker song called 'Simple Gifts'," explained Clara.

"It's beautiful."

Embarrassed at being caught, Clara's eyes darted about in search of an escape. "It's my mother's favorite..." carefully she began edging toward the exit.

Reverend Johnson was by then quite captivated by the woman and walked beside her, hands behind his back. "Is she who taught you to play?"

Clara nodded, still blushing. "I'm rusty. I haven't even seen a piano in five years."

_Beautiful and talented..._ The clergyman struggled to shake thoughts of attraction out of his mind. "Well, I certainly couldn't tell." Seeing that he was making the woman uncomfortable, the Reverend mentally scolded himself and stopped cold at the entrance. "Thank you for coming. I hope you'll come again."

Clara shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, but as much as I enjoyed being in church again, I'm afraid I'll have to be going as soon as possible. I'll probably be gone next week."

"Oh." He fought back the disappointment in his voice and expression. "Well, then I wish you a safe journey."

"Thank you, Reverend." Again, the shy smile. Clara was about to make good her escape when she unexpectedly bumped into Dr. Quinn at the bottom of the steps, who was chatting with Ms. Jennings.

"There you are," said the doctor pleasantly. "I see you met the Reverend."

Clara nodded, hoping not to be detained too long. She was keenly aware of the uncertain stares from all angles...and on the church steps, she could be seen by everyone. How ironic it was! When turning cartwheels in trousers, she could care less about a crowd. When at church in a dress, she wanted to hide. Perhaps she had just been posing as a man for too long.

"Miss Braun, I'd like you to meet Dorothy."

Clara could hardly smile and introduce herself before Dorothy began chattering excitedly. She wanted an interview about Clara's life as a lady acrobat. It must be ever so interesting. Clara paled at the prospect._ The last thing I need is more reasons for people to stare at me like a foreign creature. _"I...I don't think so. I'm...not every good at interviews."

Dorothy shrugged. "Oh, nonsense. There's nothing to it. All there is are a few questions. Besides, I hear you're looking for work, and a little publicity might help."

"No, really, I..." Clara's face reddened. "Thank you, but...um..." Her head ached, and she rubbed at it.

"What's the matter? Is your head bothering you again?" Michaela's smile faded.

While the headache and dizziness was much improved, it gave the perfect excuse to avoid the perky, chattery redhead. Clara nodded. "A little..." Before that had meant a splitting headache, but for once Clara was telling the truth.

The woman introducing the newcomer vanished, replaced by the doctor. "Are you dizzy?"

Dorothy's own smile faded as she looked from Michaela to Clara. "What's wrong?"

"She's been recovering from a concussion," explained Michaela.

"Oh, poor thing." Dorothy's face sagged with sympathy. "I'm sorry."

_Thank God._ Clara smiled thinly and shrugged it off, offering no resistance as the doctor led her through the grass to a picnic blanket that was being spread on the lawn in front of the church. Normally Clara hated being fussed over, especially by those she still considered strangers. But if following the doctors' orders meant avoiding introductions to those who thought her crazy, then so be it.

Later Clara decided that the only bad thing about Sundays was not being able to turn cartwheels. After only two days she missed the freedom that come with tumbling. But trying such a thing would be foolish. She could not imagine what the townspeople would say to that!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry this is taking so long to update. Between college and now a little niece to take care of, writing has fallen by the wayside. Thanks to all who have read and left kind reviews!**

For Clara, Monday was marked by the almost complete absence of any symptoms...and the continued struggle to find work. Dr. Quinn had offered a job as an assistant at the clinic, but Clara admitted she didn't have the stomach for it.

Only one other person had offered her a job. Hank Lawson, owner of the saloon, saw Clara leaning against the hitching post across the street and twiddling her thumbs, occasionally reaching to stroke her horse. The cigar-smoking man straightened his vest and sauntered over to her. "'Scuse me...Clara, isn't it?"

Clara flinched and lifted her head. Wrinkling her nose at the odor of the cigar, she eyed Hank suspiciously. "Yeah?"

"Heard you been lookin' for work," he said casually.

"Yeah," nodded Clara. She knew who Hank was...but at that point she was willing to do almost anything to earn some money. "Why? You hiring?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," said Hank with a perfectly sleazy grin. He began to make a slow circle around the woman, looking her up and down, as if he was inspecting livestock. "Most folks 'round her don't hire women...I do."

Clara shivered uncomfortably under Hank's gaze. "What kind of work?"

Hank shrugged. "The kind a woman with your figure's suited for...entertainin'." he drew out every syllable, making it clear what sort of 'entertainment' it was. "Pay's good, you get room and board, and keep half of what you take in...Sundays off." He leaned in close, leering as if he was going to try and kiss her. "Whaddya say?"

Bile rose in Clara's throat in disgust, but she was determined not to run away screaming like a little girl. Her eyes narrowed and looked directly into Hank's. "For what should it profit a man, if he should gain the world...and lose his soul?"

Hank's leer faded into a look of anger. "You wanna job or not? Nobody else is gonna hire ya, and you know it."

Clara, noticing where Hank was standing, smiled and edged closer. Her foot slid behind his and, with a sudden pull, she tripped him.

Hank was completely caught off guard and fell backwards into the horse trough with a mighty splash. He came up sputtering, coughing, and utterly livid. Drunken laughter from across the street increased his anger.

Clara mounted her horse with a firm smile. "No thank you, Mr. Lawson. I make my own future." A light kick sent her horse trotting down the road.

Hank, meanwhile, was left to claw his way out of the horse trough, dripping wet, and slog back to his saloon. He tossed the extinguished cigar into the street and swore. "Whaddya lookin' at?" he growled at the whiskified patrons. The swinging doors flew open as he stalked inside.

Despite the satisfying public humiliation of Hank, Clara was still in a dejected and sour mood the rest of the day. She tried going for a long walk around the perimeter of the town, telling her troubles to Jasper, and finding a secluded spot by the creek to gather her thoughts, but nothing worked. Frowning, she turned back toward town that afternoon. Judging by the tight groups of children she encountered on the way back, school had just let out. By the time she arrived back at the churchyard, it was empty.

An overwhelming wish to tumble made Clara climb down from her horse and tie her hair away from her face. While the doctor had warned her not to jump back into her tricks too soon, surely a few cartwheels wouldn't hurt anything. A quick look around told her nobody was watching. Clara briefly stretched before taking a deep breath, getting into a lunge, and kicking up into a perfect cartwheel.

The movement brought both a calm and an excitement that nothing else did. Happily did the woman perform four more cartwheels, all in a row, then ran into her individual tricks. Round-off...back handspring...and finally a back tuck. She ended the workout by walking about on her hands, feet in the air. Another headache was coming, but she ignored it. _I needed this._

Reverend Johnson had emerged from the schoolhouse and stopped short upon seeing Clara perform her stunts. At first he was rather uncomfortable, seeing a woman bent in such ways...but it didn't take long for such thoughts to leave. There was nothing suggestive or seductive about it. The grace with which Clara moved and the strength she demonstrated was captivating. Joy was evident on her face, telling the world she loved being upside-down.

The Reverend's amazed smile faded when he noticed her arms were wobbling and her body beginning to waver, as if she was off balance. The fear of seeing her fall made him walk up to her quickly.

Then Clara did fall, landing on her side. Reverend Johnson broke into a run. "Miss Braun! Are you all right?" he asked, skidding to stop beside her.

Clara was already sitting up and brushing off her trousers, taking the fall in stride. "Oh, I'm fine. Just-" She stopped when she realized the Reverend had been watching her entire routine. Her face went red. "Oh...I'm sorry, Reverend. I...shouldn't have been tumbling in the churchyard...I guess I got carried away."

The worried Reverend shook his head in dismissal. "Never mind about that. As long as you're not hurt."

"Oh, no. Just lost my balance, is all." Clara offered a crooked smile.

"Oh, good." Relief was evident on the Reverend's face, confusing even him. While he hated seeing anyone hurt, he could not account for the extra level of concern for this woman, who was still all but a stranger. Wanting to be a gentleman, he offered her a hand up. "Need any help?"

Clara hesitated. Normally she would have arisen on her own. It wasn't as if she was weighed down by a heavy bustle and skirt. But her head was still spinning, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall again. Reluctantly, she accepted the offered hand. "Thank you." She waited until her head had stopped spinning to take a step forward. "I must have looked like a silly schoolboy."

"No, you're..." The Reverend bit back the compliment on the woman's beauty and substituted another word. "...very talented."

Clara started a bit at the compliment. Most men would have- and had -chided her for being unladylike and immodest. Of all people, she had expected the Reverend to do the same. "Thank you," she sputtered in surprise. "But I'm sure there are better places to practice than the churchyard."

"Perhaps." Reverend Johnson shrugged. "I'm sorry you missed the circus. I'm sure they would have loved to have you."

"Well, they aren't the only circus in the country. I'll find another."

"So you're leaving?" Again it was a chore for the clergyman to keep the disappointment from his face.

"Not as soon as I'd have liked," admitted Clara. They had walked across the churchyard to where Jasper stood calmly grazing. She motioned to the empty nail holes in his hooves. "He hasn't had a decent shoeing job since before we left. Blacksmith told me he can't go far 'till he gets a whole new set...and I can't pay for it 'till I find work. That's what I've been doing. Looking."

The Reverend had hardly noticed that he had been following the young woman-closely -until then. He took a few steps back to give her a bit of personal space. "Have you had any luck?"

Clara grimaced. "Not unless you call a job offer from the saloon owner luck."

_Clara, in a brothel?_ The idea was nauseating. _She didn't take the job, did she?_ "What did you say?" asked the Reverend cautiously.

Clara raised her eyebrows, as if surprised he could even ask. "'No', of course."

Reverend Johnson took another step back, chagrined. "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to imply..." his voice drifted off, and he grew thoughtful. "We're in desperate need of a schoolteacher."

Clara quickly shook her head. "No thank you, Reverend. I've never been much for book-learning...not that I don't like books," she added, seeing brief look of dismay cross the clergyman's face. "Always been good at reading and writing, some history, but figuring? That's a different story. I can hardly remember long division." Suddenly aware of how long she'd been standing there, Clara fumbled with the knot in Jasper's reins.

Reverend Johnson sighed in disappointment. "Well...there are one or two positions open in the church... what about a pianist? You seem to know your way around well enough. It wouldn't pay much, but..."

Clara looked up in surprise. "Play in the church?" A brief look of delight- chased away a look of longing and then defeat -crossed her face. She blushed and mounted her horse. "I couldn't. "

"Why not? You play beautifully."

"But...I couldn't!" insisted Clara. "I don't know enough."

"I could teach you, if you'd like."

Clara's brows lifted in surprise. She had not expected the Reverend to be skilled in music as well as oration. Hesitation overtook her upon seeing the kind, pleading look on his face. Was there something else behind those brown eyes besides just concern for his flock? _Oh, stop it. A man of the cloth would never be interested in an acrobat. _The young woman finally let out a sigh and nodded. "All right." Eager to flee the scene and have a good think, Clara quickly gathered her reins and heeled Jasper into a trot.

If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn she saw attraction in those eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

How did I talk myself into this? wondered the young woman as she stood stock-still outside the small church building, Jasper's reins in hand. It was Friday, marking a full week since Clara's arrival in Colorado Springs. In that time her concussion had healed...and she had still not found work. While a friendship was quickly developing between her and the doctor's family- especially Brian, who was fascinated by her tricks -no one else besides the Reverend and, occasionally, Dorothy Jennings had paid her any mind beyond quick glances of disapproval. Room and board did not pose a problem since she was able to contribute several household chores, but not a single cent had been earned while Jasper's need for shoes grew ever more pressing. The only choice left was to accept the Reverend's offer of a job at the church. Clara was not terribly crazy about the idea. The uncomfortable thought of attraction made her want to run the other way. Already her wanderlust- and the coldness of the town -made her wish to leave as soon as possible. But, what else was she to do? She wouldn't be caught dead in the saloon, and she had a snowball's chance in the Sahara of getting a job anywhere else. And so, she found herself staring at the church late Friday afternoon, trying to think of what to say. School had let out nearly an hour ago and this was the last place Reverend Johnson had been seen. Finally the woman sighed and shook her head, tying Jasper to the hitching post and mounting the steps. This is ridiculous. Come on, in you go! She raised her hand and was about to knock when the door suddenly opened. A very distracted Reverend Johnson nearly ran right into her. Clara jumped backwards with a little gasp of surprise. "Oh!" exclaimed Reverend Johnson, taking a step back himself. "Miss Braun! I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was standing there." "That...that's all right," faltered Clara, blushing. Suddenly she found herself tongue-tied, and snapped her mouth shut. "What a pleasant surprise," said the Reverend after a while. "How has your search for employment been going?" "Well...that's why I'm here. Is that position for the pianist still open?" Clara grimaced. She almost hoped he would say the position was filled. Reverend Johnson's thick brown eyebrows lifted in surprise. He tried not to look too eager as he shook his head. "Yes, it is. Why do you ask?" Don't make me say it. Clara bit her lip for a moment, then shook off her unease and shrugged. "Oh...I'm willing to give it a try...that is, if you think your congregation can put up with me." The Reverend broke into a smile and let out a short laugh. "If what I heard last week is any sample, they'll be more than welcoming. Practice is every Saturday at two in the afternoon." Clara nodded, trying to smile. "I'll be there. Don't expect any miracles...I'm really not that good." "Well that kind of goes along with the job description," admitted the Reverend. His eyes shone with humor. Clara's only response was to chuckle. "I'll try and remember that. Thanks." She backed up, then turned to go down the church steps. That wasn't so bad, was it? Reverend Johnson kept smiling. "See you tomorrow." Clara mounted Jasper and gathered her reins. "Bye, Reverend." Wheeling the animal around, she heeled him into a trot and made her way across the green churchyard. All the while, Reverend Johnson stared after her. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing until a late schoolboy wandered past. It happened to be Brian Cooper, who carried some sort of green and brown creature in a large canning jar. "Hey, Reverend," he called cheerfully. Reverend Johnson kept staring, unaware of the boy's presence. Brian frowned and stopping his tracks. "Reverend? You OK?" Startled out of his reverie, Timothy turned to look at the boy. "I'm sorry, Brian. I'm afraid I wasn't listening." "'S okay," shrugged the boy easily. He looked off in the direction that Clara had gone. "Whatcha lookin' at?" "Oh...nothing." Timothy's face reddened for a moment at being caught. He quickly diverted his attention to Brian's new pet and walked down the steps. "What do you have there?" "Bullfrog," answered Brian with a grin. Timothy's eyes widened as he inspected the huge, slimy creature. "Goodness. He's certainly impressive." Brian beamed. "Yeah. I think he's the biggest one I ever caught!" he looked about. "Hey, you seen Miss Clara? I wanted to ask her somethin'." Eager to divert attention away from him, the Reverend nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, she just left toward your place. If you hurry you might catch up with her." The boy's grin returned. "Thanks. See 'ya!" And he raced off down the road, frog in hand. Reverend Johnson was left shaking his head on the church steps. When am I going to learn? Brian could run surprisingly fast for a boy his size, and caught up with Clara in only five minutes. "Miss Clara!" he called. Clara looked over her shoulder, brought Jasper to a stop, and gave the boy a confused smile. "Hey, Brian. What are you doing here? I thought you'd gone home already." Brian shrugged. "Naw. Steven told me about this huge bullfrog down by the creek. Said it was the biggest one ever! I didn't believe him, so he showed me." Well, boys will be boys. Clara gave him a look of amusement. "Did you catch him?" Proudly the ten year old held up his prize. "Yup!" Clara chuckled upon seeing the size of the croaker, who was sitting in a pile of dead leaves and mud. "Wow. He's huge!" Her smile faded upon seeing the long, late-afternoon shadows stretch across the ground. "It's getting kind of late. Does your ma know where you are?" Brian's smile disappeared into a look of alarm as he looked around. He had hardly realized the passing of time. "Uh-oh." Sheepishly he shook his head. Clara sighed and shook her own head. 'You better get home, then. Come on. I'll give you a ride." Brian sighed in relief. "Thanks, Miss Clara. Ma'd be awful worried if I got home after dark." "I figured. Here you go!" Clara leaned over, gasped Brian's outstretched arms, and heaved him up behind her with a grunt. Normally a woman would have a hard time lifting a boy of that size up so high, but Clara's regular acrobatics had made her arms thick and muscular. "All right. Hang on. C'mon, Jasper." She nudged the horse into a trot. Normally, she would have let a tardy child walk home on their own and catch whatever was coming to them. Clara had seen Dr. Mike's style of discipline and most would consider it very lenient...she never struck the children and tried very hard not to raised her voice. But Brian had been the first to extend the hand of friendship to her. It would have been easy to develop a soft spot for him even if he didn't remind her of little Dylan...the two were so much alike! Brian sat behind her with one arm around her waist and the other around his frog. "Hey, Miss Clara?" he asked after about five minutes. "Yeah, kiddo?" "Those tricks you do sure are neat." Clara smiled. The kid had said as much several times. "Thank you." Brian craned his neck to gauge her reaction. "Could you teach me?" The woman laughed. "What, how to flip?" Brian nodded eagerly. "Yeah!" A look of slight concern passed across Clara's face. The thought of a little boy being hurt on her account was dsturbing. "I don't know. The kind of tricks I do take years of practice...they can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing." "Please? I wouldn't want to do the big ones yet...just the smaller ones, like walking on my hands." "Well..." The boy certainly had enough energy to do a few simple stunts. He was totally fearless and when he put his mind to something, absolutely would not give up. Oh, come on. A few cartwheels and handstands never hurt anybody. Once again, it was Brian's big blue eyes that melted the acrobat's heart. Finally Clara nodded. "OK. But only if your ma says it's all right." Brian grinned. "Thanks, Miss Clara!" The woman chuckled to herself at the boy's enthusiasm and suddenly found herself wistful. I gave in too easily. He's too much like Dylan...the unpleasant memory was once again banished, and Clara fixed her gaze on the road ahead. Clara and Brian returned to the homestead just before sunset. As they had suspected, Dr. Mike was not happy about his sudden disappearance and was just on the cusp of being worried about him. Her anger was tempered with relief, and her only words to Brian were to be sure and keep better track of time in the future. The giant bullfrog received more negative attention. Colleen, upon seeing the creature, grimaced and backed away. Matthew- who had returned the previous day for his work on the ranch -remarked on how big the croaker was, while Dr. Mike simply reminded her son to keep the animal outside and out of reach of Pup. Sully was gone again to discuss several things with his Cheyenne friends. At supper, as was the family custom, everyone discussed their day. While Clara still felt odd having to remain at the doctor's house and had a tendency to hang back away from the family, she had opened up somewhat. When her chance came, she immediately mentioned the job lead. "I didn't know there were any positions open at the church," remarked Michaela in surprise. "What kinda job did ya get?" Brian asked, swallowing a mouthful of biscuit. Clara hesitated. She had shared very little about her past. The acrobatics was only a small part of it. There was no point in mentioning the piano. The Reverend might change his mind when he found the true reason she had been so reluctant to take the job. "I'm...I'm not sure yet. I'll find out tomorrow." This answer seemed satisfactory to the family, and there were no further inquiries. After supper while Clara did the dishes, Brian quietly approached Dr. Mike, who had been reading one of her books. "Ma, can...may I ask a question?" Michaela smiled and set down her book. "Of course, Brian. What is it?" "You know those tricks that Miss Clara does?" "Yes." "She said she'd teach me how to do them." The doctor's smile vanished, replaced by alarm. She immediately turned to Clara. "Did you?" Clara flinched at the doctor's gaze and quickly went on the offensive. "Yes, ma'am...but not unless you gave your permission." Michaela sighed and turned her gaze back to her son. "Brian, I don't think that would be a very good idea. Some of those stunts are very dangerous." Brian's face fell. "I know...but can't I just learn a few of them? I'd be careful, I promise." The doctor's face grew pinched with worry. "I know you mean that, but in the excitement of the moment, people often get carried away and hurt themselves. You should know that." The memory of Brian's disastrous jump out of the tree returned unbidden, making her grimace. "But this is different. I'm not gonna do anything dangerous." "Brian..." Clara, who had been watching the exchange, decided to speak up. "Excuse me, Doc, but I'd be watching him the whole time. I wouldn't let your son try anything he wasn't ready for." She looked Dr. Quinn in the eye. "Ma'am, I would never let a child do any stunt that was dangerous. I'll just teach him the basics and hold him back if he isn't careful. You have my word, I will not let anything happen to Brian if you let me teach him." Michaela sighed and looked from Clara to the pleading, hopeful face of her son. After a long while, she nodded. "All right. But please, be careful." The doctor fondly stroked Brian's golden hair. "I don't want you getting hurt." Brian broke into a huge grin. "I'll be careful. I promise. Thanks, Ma!" He wrapped his arms around Michaela's neck to give her a tight hug. Michaela hugged the boy back, but couldn't help but throw a worried glance to the young acrobat. Clara's look of quiet confidence did little to reassure her. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Oof!" Brian's arms gave way and sent him sprawling on the grass once again. He looked up at Clara forlornly and rose to his feet, dusting off his trousers. "This is sure a lot harder than it looks."

Clara sighed and shook her head at the youngster. "It's going to take practice, Brian," she reminded. "I didn't learn overnight."

It was Saturday morning, and after finishing the weekend chores, Clara and Brian had set out to a grassy meadow next to the creek for Brian's first tumbling lesson. It was a softer surface than the barnyard, yet out of sight of the suspicious townspeople. The morning began well enough. Clara wanted to start the boy off with the easiest thing to learn...a somersault. Within minutes the energetic young boy was rolling happily across the field and begging to learn more. So, she showed him how to do a handstand.

That wasn't going as well. Brian couldn't seem to kick up far enough to go vertical, nor keep his legs straight. He had tried the maneuver some fifteen times already with the same result. Most recently, his weight had shifted forward until he hovered in a push-up position before landing on his stomach. Presently he frowned and got into a lunge again. "One more try," he amended.

Clara hid a smile at the boy's tenacity and nodded. "Go ahead. But hold on, and this time I'll try and catch your legs and hold you upside down so you can get a feel for it."

"OK. Here I go." Brian lifted his arms overhead, leaned back, and then kicked up again. He flinched when Clara caught his legs. "Whoa..."

"It's all right," said Clara. "Just lock your elbows, pull your stomach in and straighten your legs."

Brian did so. "Like this?" His arms wobbled, but his form was much improved.

Clara smiled. "There you go. OK, now on the count of three, bring your leg back down and land back in a lunge. Ready? One, two, three!"

Brian did as he was told. His landing was rough, but about as good as one could expect. His lopsided smile returned.

Clara nodded. "You see? All you have to do is find your balance, and you're good to go."

The boy nodded back. "I get it. I want to try again, but this time by myself."

\Clara hesitated for a moment. "Well...all right. But if you start to feel yourself falling, step back out of it."

"I will." Brian got back into a lunge and kicked up into a handstand. He was crooked, but nearing vertical. "Hey, I did it!" He called out. Then he was tipping forward. "Whoa!"

"Hang on, I've got you..." The acrobat moved quickly to catch the boy and set him to the ground, a little pale. "You OK?"

Brian nodded and rose to his feet. "Yeah. Guess I kinda went too far, huh?"

Clara shuddered. "Just a little. If that happens again, then tuck your head and go into a roll so you don't land on your back."

Again, Brian nodded. "OK. Sorry I scared 'ya."

The woman shrugged as she rose to her feet. "That's all right. Just don't kick up so hard next time." She sighed. "Maybe it's time to quit for today."

Brian frowned. "Already?"

"Brian, we've been out here for more than an hour. Don't you think we should be heading back?" Clara raised her eyebrows.

"Couldn't I learn just one more thing?"

Clara sighed and looked away from that innocent, blue-eyed face. _I'm too soft with him. Why does that kid have to be so cute?_ "One more, and that's it. How about a cartwheel?"

Brian's face lit up. "Yeah! How do you do one?"

Quickly Clara ran through the basics, demonstrating as she went. "First you get in a lunge, like you're going to do a handstand. Then you turn sideways, keep your arms and legs wide, and roll like a giant wheel." She completed the stunt. "It looks easy, but it can take a long time to master."

Brian smiled. "Must be easier than a handstand. You're not upside-down as long. Can I try?"

"Hang on a sec, and I'll spot you." Clara moved to stand to the side, ready to catch the boy again. "Go for it."

Brian got back into a lunge and kicked up. His legs were bent and off to the side, and halfway through he landed in an unbalanced squat, rolling backward onto his rear.

Clara was hard-pressed to keep from laughing at the valiant attempt and his confused expression. "Not bad...for a first try. But come on. It's time to go home." She beckoned to him.

Brian dragged his feet. "Couldn't I practice some more?"

The woman chuckled, but shook her head. "Not today. I promised your Ma I'd have you back by lunch time, so come on."

Brian sighed, but nodded in agreement. "I'm comin'." He jogged to catch up to Clara as she walked to where Jasper stood waiting. "I guess I didn't do too good today, huh?"

Clara's smile widened. "No, for a first day, you did pretty good. Like I said, it's going to take a lot of practice." She lifted Brian into the saddle and climbed up after him.

"Then I'm gonna practice every day," said Brian firmly.

"Good. Just don't practice in the barnyard." Clara cringed. "Your ma would strangle me."

After lunch- during which Brian excitedly reported his doings to his mother and sister -Clara brought in a load of firewood before riding off toward the church. It was time for her to practice for Sunday services. Whether or not Reverend Johnson would change his mind about the job offer remained to be seen.

As Jasper trotted across the bridge, the little church loomed into view. Clara frowned upon seeing the empty hitching post and reined her horse to a stop. The church looked deserted. A quick glance at her watch confirmed the time...2:00 sharp. Where was everyone else? _I must have heard wrong,_ she thought, preparing to turn Jasper around.

At that moment the Reverend emerged from the church at a brisk walk, looking around. His brown eyes lit up upon seeing Clara. "Miss Braun! Good afternoon."

No backing out now. Clara's smile was brief. "Afternoon, Reverend." She slid off of Jasper's back and fiddled with the reins. "Uh..where's everyone else?"

_Oh, dear. I forgot to tell her..._Reverend Johnson cringed. "Oh...there is no one else. We did have a choir at one point, but when the choir director left.." he shrugged. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

Clara's face rapidly went from pale to bright red. Alarm bells rang in her head._ So...it's me and the Reverend...who also happens to be a handsome man..alone...for the whole afternoon._ Clara quickly scolded herself for the unholy train of thought._ For heaven's sake, woman, he's a pastor! He's always been a gentleman and everyone respects him. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for even thinking such a thing!_ The intense embarrassment was difficult to hide, so Clara turned away and marched over to the hitching post to tether Jasper. "It's all right," she told the Reverend, clearing her throat.

They stood awkwardly at the bottom of the church steps for a minute. Reverend Johnson swept his hand aside. "Ladies first."

Clara quickly mounted the steps. Relief was evident upon seeing the pastor leave both doors wide open. At Reverend Johnson's encouragement, she sat down at the piano. _Now, what?_

The Reverend seemed cheerful as he stood at a comfortable distance behind. "Well. Let's start, shall we? How do you usually warm up?"

"The major scales," answered Clara promptly.

"Go ahead."

Clara nodded and lifted the cover. With the ease of one who knew the ivory keys like the back of her hand, she put her hands into position. Calmly she ran through every major scale, from C major to B major. She managed to forget that someone was watching her until she turned around to see the Reverend seemingly lost in thought, a quiet smile on his face. The woman cleared her throat.

Reverend Johnson flinched. He'd been staring at her again. Embarrassed, he picked up a hymnbook and began thumbing through the pages. "All right...let's take a look at some hymns for tomorrow...ah." He stopped at 'Onward Christian Soldiers' and set the book down on the music stand. "Do you know this one?"

Clara's heart sank upon seeing the unfamiliar words and notes dance across the page. Wordlessly she shook her head. "No...I mean, I think I heard it once, but...no." _He's going to find out._

"That's all right. Go ahead and get a good look at the music, and we can run through it together."

"I...I can't..." Clara turned away and hung her head.

"It's not that difficult-"

"No, you don't understand!" exclaimed Clara in desperation. She stared helplessly at the hymnbook. "I can't read music."

Reverend Johnson's eyes widened in surprise. For a minute he considered denying it...but there was no denying Clara's distress and embarrassment. "Oh." He took a step back. "Then how did you learn to play?"

Clara's cheeks burned. "I play by ear. My mother never saw a note of music in her life, but she could play anything she heard. She taught me to do the same. Once I hear a song played enough, I can learn it. But reading music?" She shook her head and lowered the cover on the piano. "I'm sorry to have interrupted you, Reverend, and to accept the position under false pretenses. I'll understand if you want me to go..." she rose from the bench and turned around.

"Wait...Miss Braun," said the Reverend quickly. He strode to stand in front of her so she would look at him. "You may not be able to read music, but you can still play beautifully." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Would you like to learn to read music?"

Clara nodded slowly. She didn't much think it was possible at her age, but it was something she had always wanted to learn.

"I could teach you," offered Reverend Johnson with a smile. "I'm not very good at it myself, but..."

"I..." Clara hesitated. As much as she liked the Reverend, she did not like that uncomfortable fluttering sensation in her stomach when he was around. She gave a crooked smile. "You sure you can teach me? I can be awful stubborn."

"Well, you can't be any more difficult than the children at school," reasoned Timothy with a chuckle.

"Well..." Clara sighed. If she wasn't so adamant about earning money for Jasper's shoes, she would have said no. She couldn't very well expect to be earning money if she had to have lessons. "All right...but I doubt I can learn by Sunday."

"Well, I can play the song for you several times so you can see and hear it, and we'll go from there." Reverend Johnson took a seat at the far end of the piano bench and held out his hand to her.

Clara closed her eyes, let out a shuddering breath, and took his hand to mount the steps back up to the piano. She would not, however sit next to him. She forced her eyes onto the ivory keys and her ears to listen to the music as the first bar of 'Onward Christian Soldiers' was played.

The lesson went on for an hour. In that time Clara learned at least a reasonable imitation of 'Onward Christian Soldiers', as well as the basics of reading music. Her embarrassment was great at how little she knew, but there were no negative words from the Reverend. Still, she could not wait to get out of that church and was very thankful that she would not have to play in church the following day. The very idea of playing the piano in front of anyone scared her to death.

In order to aid her progress, Reverend Johnson suggested piano lessons every other day after school had let out. Clara made no particular objections to that...but she did wonder what the townspeople would say in seeing her come and go so often from the church. When she spoke of payment for the lessons, Timothy would hear none of it and suggested that it become a sort of barter; lessons for Sunday playing.

Thus, the next two weeks saw Clara very busy. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, she would learn to read music, as well as hearing and repeating 'Onward Christian Soldiers'. By the second week the Reverend declared her ready to play in church. Clara was petrified...but the sooner she could begin her new 'job', the better.


	8. Chapter 8

Clara stood behind the small alcove with her stomach twisting every which way. Everyone had filed into the church and sat waiting for service to start. She could just imagine the whispers when she took her seat at the piano. Already she could hear Brian asking Dr. Mike "Where's Miss Clara?" _I wish I was somewhere else...anywhere else._ Clara closed her eyes and for one dreadful moment she felt as if she was going to be sick. _I can't do this!_

Finally Reverend Johnson walked up to the pulpit. "Good morning. Will you all stand, please, and open your hymnbooks to page 71?"

Clara paled. That was her cue. She hesitated until the Reverend met her eye, then walked forward on jellied legs to sit at the piano and open the lid. The hymnbook stared back at her with its' mocking collection of hen scratches. Her hands trembled. When the Reverend met her eye again and nodded, she put her hands into the D Major position. She slipped a bit at the opening refrain, but was able to close her eyes for a minute and lose herself to the music. There was nothing there but her and the piano...and God.

"On-ward Chris-tian sol-l-diers," sang Reverend Johnson, "mar-ching as to wa-a-ar,"

Due to their surprise at hearing the piano, the rest of the congregation fell behind and stared for a minute. They did not catch up until "Christ the roy-al ma-aster leads a-gainst the fo-o-oe..." And then, one by one, they recognized who was sitting there. The chorus was more confused than ever and were no longer in sync until the second verse.

All the while, Clara's ears burned with embarrassment. She could hardly wait until the song was over and she could return to her spot in the pew. It was not until Reverend Johnson began his sermon that the knots in her stomach began to untie. Then she began dreading the minutes after church when the questions would be asked. Perhaps she could just slip out unnoticed.

Alas, Clara was not to have peace after church. As expected she was hardly out the door before Brian dashed up to her with eagerness written on his young face.

"Miss Clara! Miss Clara!" he cried, erasing all doubts of the bystanders as to who it was. "How'd you learn to play the piano?"

Clara lifted her eyes to survey the tight knot of Loren Bray, Jake Slicker, and several others as they gaped at her, then returned to their clique to whisper among themselves. She briefly closed her eyes before turning to Brian, trying to smile. "My mother taught me." She noticed the rest of the family approaching with equal looks of surprise.

"How come you didn't say nothin'?" Brian wanted to know.

"It never came up," said Clara evasively.

Dr. Quinn, seeing how embarrassed Clara was, lightly touched the shoulder of her youngest. "Brian..."

Brian was quick to get the picture. He backed away with a nod.

Clara shot a look of gratitude to the doctor and went to gather Jasper's reins from the hitching post. As she did, a snippet of conversation reached her ears.

"It was so nice finally hearing that piano, Reverend," Dorothy Jennings was saying. "Was that really Clara Braun, the acrobat?"

"Yes, it was," admitted Reverend Johnson.

"Well, can you please tell her that she plays beautifully, and that we are happy to have her in our town?"

Clara's cheeks burned, but this time the burning was pleasant. She did not think she had done all that well. It was very kind of Dorothy to say something like that.

"You can tell her yourself. I'm sure she'd be very happy to hear it."

"Well, I would, but I can't seem to find her."

"That's odd. I'm sure she's around somewhere..."

Clara's shoulders fell in relief as she took that as a cue to hop on Jasper's back and leave. _Good. At least I didn't make a complete fool of myself..._ Giving a small smile, she planted her hat back on her head and gave Jasper a light tap in the ribs. "C'mon, boy. Let's go."

It was probably just as well that she did not hear the annoyed conversation between Jake, Loren, and Horace.

"I'd like to know what the Reverend was thinkin', letting that crazy woman play the piano," groused Loren.

"She don't seem that crazy to me," put in Horace. "Seems nice, as a matter of fact."

"Aw, Horace. There you go again..." Loren grumbled.

Jake threw the telegraph operator a raised eyebrow. "How'd you know what's normal and what ain't?" he scoffed. "'Specially when it comes to women."

Horace scowled, knowing what they were implying. He did not have much respect in town due to being engaged to one of Hank's women. "You just watch what you're sayin' about Myra," he warned.

"Who said anything about Myra?" Jake wanted to know, raising one of his hands in defense.

"You didn't say nothin'...but you were thinkin' it." Horace sighed and settled down. "Anyhow, I can't see what problem you have with the lady. She keeps to herself, comes to church every Sunday...and 'sides, you heard how good she plays the piano."

"I don't care how good she plays. A woman like that don't belong up front in church where everybody can see her," insisted Loren.

"She ought to find herself a man...learn her place," agreed Jake.

Loren sniggered. "Yeah, and what kinda man would want that kinda woman for a wife? You?"

Jake flinched and straightened his vest. "Heck no. But there's gotta be somebody desperate enough 'round here..."

Horace, who was disgusted with the whole conversation, shook his head. "You two...you're just as bad as...as...well, I'm goin' home!" Having run out of words, the tall man mashed his derby back onto his hand and loped off with a frown.

Loren and Jake were left to debate the matter alone. The conversation ended with a reluctant "Well, at least she'll be leavin' soon..."

And so, for the next month, Clara was very busy. Between learning to read music, practicing the piano for Sunday services, teaching Brian how to tumble, and doing various odd jobs around the homestead, she was left with hardly any time to do her stunts... but she still did them. Tumbling was, after all, her livelihood. She would do a cartwheel or two between the homestead and the barn, or walk on her hands down to the creek. Any time she thought no one was watching she would do handsprings across the schoolyard...but she was never completely alone.

A few children always hung around to watch, usually Brian and a few others. Brian would always try to do a cartwheel with her, but still could not master the stunt.

Michaela, meanwhile, viewed her son's doings with a kind of tolerance. She saw the friendship between Brian and Clara and was not thrilled, but Brian seemed to be enjoying himself, and while Clara was certainly unorthodox, she had not done anything wrong. The young woman was devoted to her horse, kind with all she met, and never missed a Sunday at church. Clara didn't mind having the children watch her stunts. She loved children. They didn't seem to mind her tumbling as much as their elders did...at least, the boys didn't. She did things they couldn't do. For some that was an annoyance, for others it was a source of admiration. They always cheered the end of her practice.

Reverend Johnson had noticed her ease and even happiness around children. He clung to it and used it in his defense of Clara's presence in the town...which came up all too often. While nearly half had gotten used to the unusual woman and a few had made friends with her, the other half still stubbornly refused to accept her. Most whispered a wish for the woman to shoe her horse and move on. They didn't need 'her kind' stirring up trouble.

No one confronted Clara directly about it, and Reverend Johnson was careful not to bring it up to her. He had grown very fond of the acrobat, and not only due to her beauty and ease with children. Timothy found Clara to be humble, pious, talented, and patient. Such qualities were hard to find in a woman. He began finding excuses to extend the piano lessons so they could spent more time together. Clara certainly didn't seem to mind.

To Clara's unending surprise, the Reverend began paying her for playing the piano on Sundays. It was only fifty cents a week, but it was better than nothing. Had she not been so hard-pressed to shoe her horse, she could not have accepted it.

At last, the money for Jasper's shoes had been earned. That very day Clara took the horse back to Robert E. with a happy, satisfied countenance. She watched, smiling, as her horses' hooves were trimmed and the brand new shoes nailed in place. When the job was done and Robert E. had been paid, she smiled brighter than anyone had seen before and thanked him. "I told you I'd get the money," she told him with confidence.

Robert E. nodded, smiling. "I remember. Don't go so long without new shoes next time. You want to keep Jasper nice and sound. He's a fine horse." He patted the animal's flank.

Clara nodded, gathering her reins and stroking Jasper's mane. "The best anyone could ask for. Thanks again!" And she heeled the animal into a trot, not seeing Jake and Loren leaning out from the barber's shop and exchanging looks of relief.

The horse had been shod. Soon, the crazy lady acrobat could move on, find her circus, and leave the citizens of Colorado Springs in peace.

Late that afternoon as Clara stood grooming Jasper out in the barn, Brian jogged out and knocked on the door before coming in. "Miss Clara?"

Clara looked up and smiled at the boy. "Hey, Brian."

"Ma says supper's almost ready." His bright blue eyes soon caught sight of Jasper's shiny new shoes. "Hey, Jasper's got new shoes!"

"Yup." Clara nodded, running the brush over Jasper's rump. "Finally got him shod today."

"But that means..." Brian's face fell, remembering Clara's statement six weeks before. As soon as Jasper was shod, Clara would be moving on. The church would lose its' new pianist...and Brian would lose his friend.

Clara frowned, looking at the crestfallen boy. "Brian? What's wrong?"

Brian quickly snapped out of his unhappy stupor to look at Clara. "Ma says supper's almost ready."

Clara nodded and tossed the brush into Jasper's grooming bucket. "All right. Tell her I'll wash up in a minute." She walked up to the lad, tilting her head to the side. "You okay, kiddo?"

Brian nodded, then turned tail and ran back to the house before Clara could see the tears in his eyes. Clara was left shaking her head.

It was therefore inevitable that the subject of Jasper's new shoes would come up at the supper table. It was not even mentioned until Dr. Mike noticed how aloof Brian was at dinner.

"Don't you like the stew, Brian?" she asked, a note of hurt in her voice. She'd made it herself and it was actually one of her more successful forays into the world of cooking. Everyone from Clara to Sully had remarked on how good it was. The fact that Brian- the least picky eater in the house -was hardly eating caused some concern.

"It's good, Ma," said Brian, playing with a chunk of potato.

"Well, you've hardly touched it."

"Just not hungry."

The 'mother' side of Michaela quickly scooted over to make room for the 'doctor', and she frowned. "Are you feeling sick?"

The boy shook his head and looked up. "I'm fine, Ma."

Michaela exchanged glances with Sully, who swallowed a mouthful of biscuit. "Somethin's botherin' you. You want to talk about it?" asked the quiet mountain man.

Brian sighed, put down his fork, and looked up. "Well...I kinda wanted to ask Miss Clara a question."

Clara suddenly noticed the look of surprise that the doctor was giving her and wiped her mouth with a napkin before turning her attention to the boy. "Sure, kiddo."

Brian bit his lip. "Remember how you said you'd be leavin' soon as Jasper got new shoes?"

Clara's shoulders sank a little bit in memory...and regret. _So that's why he's so upset._ She nodded. "I remember."

"Jasper got new shoes today. Does that mean you'll be leavin' soon?" Brian's tone was sad, but not pushy.

Suddenly five pairs of eyes turned to regard Clara. The woman shrank under their gaze and gave a slow nod. "Probably."

"How come?" Brian wanted to know.

"I just have to."

"Don't you like it here?"

Clara flinched. Her eyes were full of regret as she gave a wistful nod. "I like it very much...but I don't think folks around here like me very much. Place like this is kinda hard to make friends in."

Brian's frown deepened. "What about us? And Robert E, and Miss Dorothy, and the Reverend?"

A slight smile twitched at the corner of Clara's mouth and a bit of red crept into her face at the mention of Reverend Johnson. He had asked a question the other day about a buggy ride after church, to which she had agreed...much to her surprise. "I know...but I'm an acrobat, Brian. I belong in the circus...and there just aren't any around here."

A look from his mother warned him not to push. Brian picked at his dinner some more and said no more.

"When you leavin'?" asked Colleen.

"Well...soon as I get some supplies...figure out a route..." Brian's blue eyes tugged at her heart again, and she had to look away. While the memory of her nephew haunted her every time the boy looked at her, she had to remind herself that Brian wasn't Dylan. She knew she would miss the boy...and Reverend Johnson. When Clara tried unsuccessfully to banish that last lingering thought from her mind, she opened her eyes and sighed. "Winter's awful close, though. Don't think I could make it all the way to New York by next year, 'specially once the snow starts flying..." She raised her head to look apologetically at Dr. Mike. "If you don't mind, ma'am, I was thinking about spending Winter here and then heading East in Spring. Wouldn't want to get caught in a blizzard in the middle of Missouri. I'd pay for room and board, of course."

Dr. Quinn raised her eyebrows in surprise, as did Sully. The pair exchanged glances and watched the faces of the children light up in hope. Brian looked hopeful, as did Colleen. The teenage girl had enjoyed Clara's stories about California and advice about being an unconventional woman. Matthew was simply hopeful because his little brother was.

Shrugging and finally breaking into a smile, Michaela nodded. "We'd be glad to have you."

Brian's face lit up with a smile like Christmas. "You're not leavin'?" he asked Clara eagerly.

Clara shrugged. "Well, not yet, anyways." _The kid has me wrapped around his finger._ Eager to get off on the right foot, she noticed the empty plates and rose to her feet. "You want me to clear the dishes, ma'am?"

The doctor nodded pleasantly. "Thank you."

"Hang on," said Brian, turning back to his lukewarm stew. "I'm not done yet." He'd regained his appetite and eagerly chewed the tasty chunks of meat and potato.


	9. Chapter 9

Sunday dawned unseasonably warm...so warm, in fact, that Dr. Quinn decided to take her family on a picnic. Clara, meanwhile, seemed far more confident than she had the last three Sundays. She was learning quickly and had added 'Happy Land' and 'Doxology' to her repertoire. Her confidence was growing as well, and her hands no longer shook before playing the piano.

When service let out, Clara followed Dr. Quinn and her family out of habit before seeing the Reverend approach, hat in hand. He nodded and smiled to them each in turn before giving a somewhat confused look to Clara. "Did you change your mind?" he asked with the brown eyes of a puppy.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Clara, somewhat uncomfortable. She glanced at the family as they picked out a spot on the grass for their picnic.

Reverend Johnson played with his hat. "You agreed to go on a buggy ride with me after church...?"

A look of embarrassment and remembrance crossed Clara's face, and she blushed. "Oh! I'm sorry...I must have forgot-"

Brian ran up to the pair eagerly. "You comin', Miss Clara?"

_Now, what?_ The woman was in a quandary. She looked from the Reverend to Brian, biting her lip.

Reverend Johnson's smile faded again. "Of course, if you have plans-"

"No," blurted Clara. "Could you...wait a minute?" She turned to Brian. "Brian, could you tell the others I won't be coming?"

"But it's fried chicken," pleaded Brian, his smile fading.

"I know, and I really would love to come...but I made another promise first." Clara offered the boy a fond smile. "Next time, okay?"

Brian sighed, but nodded. "Okay. See 'ya!" And with that, the boy scampered off to rejoin his family.

With Brian out of earshot, Reverend Johnson offered Clara his arm. "Shall we?"

While she was blushing furiously, Clara nodded and took the offered arm. Her mind and heart raced as the Reverend led her to the small buggy behind the church. _I must be crazy..._

Meanwhile, Brian had returned to his family and, without preamble, snagged an apple from the basket.

Micheala smiled at her youngest for a minute, then looked around. "Didn't you find Miss Clara, Brian?"

Brian nodded, taking a juicy bite from his apple. "She said she's not comin'."

_That's odd..._The doctor frowned lightly. "Did she say why?"

Brian shrugged and swallowed the apple. "Naw...I think she was gonna talk to the Reverend about somethin'. She said she had a promise to keep."

"What sort of promise?"

"She didn't say."

Michaela sighed and shook her head. There was no accounting for Clara's changeable moods. One day she was happy to spend time with the family and the next..."Well, who's hungry?" she asked, opening the basket. She had just taken the chicken out when she felt Sully touch her arm and motion to the far left. When Michaela turned her head to follow his gaze, she flinched in surprise.

There sat Clara, blushing but happy, riding alongside Reverend Johnson in his buggy while the Reverend looked rather pleased with himself.

"Looks like the Reverend's taken a shine to her,'" murmured Sully with a knowing smile.

"Apparently," admitted Michaela. The corners of her mouth twitched downward in a slight frown.

"You don't seem too happy about that," observed Sully.

"Well, no, I just..." she quickly shrugged off her look of dismay. "...didn't see it coming, that's all." She dropped the conversation by passing plates around.

Brian, who had seen the buggy, turned to his mother. "Is the Reverend courtin?" he asked in confusion.

Michaela sighed. "If he is, it's none of our business. Come on, Brian. It's time to eat."

Michaela and her children were not the only ones to see the Reverend and Clara drive by in the buggy. Jake and Loren saw it, as well and stared in disbelief.

"What the...?" Jake gaped and pulled the straw he'd been chewing out of his mouth. "Where's he think he's goin'?"

"Ya don't think..." Loren turned to Jake in dismay and lowered his voice to a conspirital whisper. "Ya' don't think they're _courtin',_ do ya'?"

"Can't be," said Jake, shaking his head in denial.

"What can't be?" asked Dorothy, coming up from behind.

"Our good Reverend is apparently takin' that crazy cross-dresser for a buggy ride," mumbled Loren, motioning to the retreating wheels and the obvious silhouettes of those within.

Dorothy turned her head in surprise, then smiled knowingly. "Looks like he's sweet on her."

"It don't seem possible!"

"Well, Clara is an attractive woman...and she never misses a Sunday."

Jake frowned incredulously. "He can't take up with her!"

Dorothy frowned. "Why not, Jake? What is so wrong with Clara Braun?"

The brown-haired barber frowned impatiently. "She ain't the kind of woman a preacher, of all people, should take up with. She's crazy."

Loren nodded. "That's right. Walks around town in men's clothes all the time, flips around like she's possessed...it ain't decent."

The frown on Dorothy's face lengthened. "She's an acrobat, Loren. It's what she does for a livin'. As to why she wears trousers, I imagine it's because she couldn't very well practice her stunts in a dress."

"Fine! She wants to find the circus, then let her!" Jake grumbled.

"What I want to know is why she hasn't left already," put in Loren. "She got her horse shod. Ain't nothin' left keepin' her here."

"Maybe there is, Loren...and maybe you just don't want to admit it." Dorothy shook her head. "Honestly, I'm ashamed of both of you. Why do you hate that woman so much? What did she ever do to you?"

When neither Jake nor Loren could answer, Dorothy walked off in a huff.

Unfortunately her scolding did little to change the minds of Jake Slicker and Loren Bray. In minutes the two were at it again, trying to think of some way to get rid of that crazy cross-dressing acrobat.

The sooner Clara Braun left, the better.

The woman in question returned from her outing with the Reverend with a spinning head. When Dr. Quinn asked how the buggy ride had gone, Clara blushed and said nothing, leaving her host family to wonder.

Clara had, much to her surprise, enjoyed the buggy ride. They had gone out to a quiet, secluded spot by a river and talked about their respective families, though not in any great detail.

The Reverend kept acting as though he was going to ask a question. Every time he opened his mouth, however, he seemed to rethink whatever it was he had planned on saying and then make some random comment about the scenery. It was rather annoying...but other than that Clara found him to be a pleasant man to keep company with. She discovered he had been orphaned at a young age and raised by his grandmother, who had instilled in him the love for learning and the patience with all, especially youngsters. She was shocked to hear of his past as a gambler, but it did not diminish her opinion of him. For a time they traded their favorite scripture verses...and then he had sighed happily and looked her in the eye.

"You're quite a woman, Clara Barton," he had said quietly.

"Well, you're the only one to think so," she'd replied, blushing.

"They just don't know you yet." His voice had grown soft and he was almost unconsciously leaning closer. Their eyes locked and he laid a hand on her arm.

It was with a great start that Clara had realized the Reverend had tried to kiss her! She'd pulled away with a gasp and stared uncomfortably at the floorboards.

After apologizing, the Reverend had turned the wagon around, red-faced. Still, they had parted well, both saying what a good time they'd had...and then Reverend Johnson had asked Clara to call him by his first name, which she did. Now she sat uncomfortably in the house, wondering what craziness she had gotten herself into. _I must be mad! Why did I agree to go with him...and why did I agree to call him Timothy?_ The woman spent the rest of the evening lost in conflicting thoughts.

Clara's stay at Colorado Springs did not get any easier simply because she had caught the eye of the Reverend. If anything, the looks of shock and disapproval increased the entire week. Any acceptance she had gained began to steadily fade, and it seemed she was forever destined to be an outsider.

Not even Dr. Mike was sure how she felt about Clara's presence in the town...and her worry about the acrobat's influence on Brian came to a head that Tuesday when she came out to the barn to see what was taking the boy so long to change the bedding in the stalls.

The barn appeared empty."Brian?" she called, looking around. The boy was nowhere in sight.

"Up here, Ma!" called a cheerful young voice from the rafters. It was Brian, standing in the loft..._on his hands!_

Michaela gasped in alarm as her heart began to pound. "Brian, what are you doing? Get down this instant!" Her voice was quiet, but rife with worry.

"Ok...whoa!" Brian's arms wavered, and down he went..._right out of the loft._ He landed on his rump, half-buried in a pile of hay.

_No! No, not again!_ "Brian!" Michaela screamed with worry and dove to catch her falling son. Her heart rose into her throat as he hit the hay. Frantic, the woman reached her arms into the hay to see if Brian was hurt.

There he lay, eyes wide with surprise and fear as he popped up and looked around. "Ma?"

Michaela's hand were shaking as she looked her son over. "Hold still. Does anything hurt? Are you all right?"

Brian nodded. "I'm fine, Ma...just kinda scared." He looked at the distance he had fallen and shuddered.

"I should think so!" Michaela soon saw that Brian was unhurt and helped him out of the hay. "What on earth were you thinking? You scared me to death!"

"I'm sorry, Ma. I was just practicin'." Brian's face was pinched with guilt.

"Practicing what? Flipping out of the loft?"

"No. Just handstands."

Michaela's fear began fading and turning to anger. "Why did you climb the loft? You could have been..." her voice broke, and she swallowed hard.

Brian hunched his shoulders. "Miss Clara said to practice somewhere soft. I figured since there was lots of hay up there, it'd be perfect. Never thought I'd fall out." He shuddered, then turned back to his mother with sad blue eyes. "I'm real sorry I scared you. Scared me, too." He swallowed. "Am I in trouble?"

The woman finally dropped down and wrapped her arms around her son, eyes damp. "No, sweetheart. I think you've learned your lesson." A lump caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes. _Why did I ever let that acrobat into my house? Why did I let her teach my son dangerous tricks?_

"Ma...ma, don't cry. I'm OK," said Brian, feeling worse than ever.

"I know...I just..." Michaela blinked back her tears and held her son close. "I'm just so glad you're not hurt. Promise me you'll never do that again."

"Never," agreed Brian emphatically.

"Good." Michaela gave Brian one last hug, then turned to go with him into the house. _I'm going to give Miss Clara Braun a piece of my mind..._

Clara, when she returned from her daily ride, was distraught at hearing the terrible fate that had nearly befallen little Brian. Dr. Mike gave her an earful before she had a chance to defend herself. The doctor was quick to apologize for the attack, but just the same, it was Michaela's wish that the gymnastics lessons stop. Though heartbroken at seeing Brian's crestfallen expression upon hearing the news, Clara agreed. She sensed her welcome was beginning to wear out.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Look out...LOOONNG chapter ahead!**

The trouble for Clara had only just begun, as she was soon to find out.

Not two days after Brian's fall from the loft, he was practicing cartwheels and handstands in the schoolyard during recess. When Colleen saw him, she was not happy.

"You better stop that, Brian," she warned. "Dr Mike said no more flippin'."  
"I ain't flippin'," Brian contradicted. "I'm practicin'. Besides, Ma didn't say I couldn't do cartwheels anymore." He went into a lunge, tipped over, and landed on his bottom, earning laughter from the children that stood watching.

"Anymore? You can't do 'em at all," scoffed one of the older boys. He was thirteen and his name was James Coleman.

"Miss Clara says the only way to learn is practice. Everybody falls down." Brian rose and dusted off his trousers.

James scoffed. "Yeah? Well, my pa says she ain't a real acrobat anyway."

Brian frowned on behalf of his friend. "She is, too!"

The older boy scowled. "She ain't! Cartwheels, handstands...anybody can do that!" And to demonstrate he went into a series of quick, somewhat crooked cartwheels, earning the cheers and applause from several other children.

Brian stood with his arms crossed. "She does more'n that and you know it. She can flip!"

James rolled his eyes. "So? I can do that, too!"

"Can not."

"Can too!"

"Brian," groaned Colleen, not eager to see her little brother get into a playground fight against a boy twice his size. "Just let it go."

Brian looked at his sister with a frown. "But you know he can't do a flip."

James puffed out his meager chest. "Oh, yeah? I'll show you!" And the young man took off at a run. The schoolyard let out a collective gasp; partly of shock, partly of eagerness.

Colleen and Brian were the only ones who didn't want to see James try the stunt. They knew darn well he could do no such thing...at least, not that they had ever seen. "James..."

"James, no! Don't do it!" cried Brian.

It was too late. James leapt into a round-off and then a clumsy, crooked back handspring. As his hands hit the ground, the right one hit at a bad angle. For a second the arm seemed to bend in the wrong place, then there was a muffled, sickening 'snap'. The youth crumpled to the ground with a cry.

Revered Johnson, of course, had heard the commotion. He hurried outside, ready to break up a fight. His eyes widened in surprise at seeing the big, tough James Coleman curled in a ball on the ground and whimpering like a dog that had been kicked. _Good Lord!_ His pace increased as he dropped next to the boy. "What happened?" he asked.

Brian cringed. "James tried doin' a flip and hurt his arm."

The Reverend closed his eyes. He should have seen this coming. The entire schoolyard had been going gymnastics crazy for over a month. Add to that young men with a penchant for showing off, and you had a recipe for disaster.

"We tried stoppin' him," put in Colleen. "He wouldn't listen."

James yelped as the Revered took a cursory glance at the arm, which was rather misshapen. Hating to see anyone in pain, especially a child, Reverend Johnson sighed. There was only one thing to do. "All right. School is dismissed. Everyone go home. I need to get James to the clinic. James, can you walk?"

The boy nodded and rose slowly to his feet. As the Reverend walked him toward town, the rest of the children scattered.

"Colleen?" said Reverend Johnson.

"Reverend?"

"Could you run ahead and tell your mother to expect us, please?"

"Sure." And so, with Brian in hot pursuit, Colleen took off down the road toward the clinic.

It did not take much for Dr. Quinn to tell that James' arm was broken- the right radius, to be exact -and it needed to be set. The small crowd that had gathered outside upon seeing the Reverend take an injured boy in cringed upon hearing the cries of pain that came out as the bone was set into place with a click. By the time his parents and little sister had arrived, the boy lay pale and moaning upon the exam table as a wooden splint was tied to his arm.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Mr. Coleman.

"It's a broken arm," answered the doctor. "I set it and I'm putting on a splint. Thankfully the break doesn't appear too serious." She offered a look of sympathy to the groaning boy.

"He'll be all right, won't he, Doc?" asked Mrs. Coleman, anxiously stroking the head of her wide-eyed daughter.

"Yes, he'll be fine. A boy his age should heal in five or six weeks...as long as he keeps it still for a while," answered Dr. Mike.

Mr. Coleman frowned. "How'd he manage that?"

The doctor pursed her lips. "Well, from what the Reverend has said, he was showing off in the playground and took a hard fall."

Mr. Coleman shook his head. "Boy, how many times have I told you to quit showin' off?" He slapped his palm with his hat, caught a firm look from his wife, then sighed and turned away. "Hope this teaches you a lesson, boy."

James averted his eyes from his father's gaze. At least with a broken arm he could avoid any further punishment. "Yes, Pa." He winced as the doctor brought him up.

Dr. Quinn unfolded a sling and put James' arm into it. "All right. Now I want you to keep your arm as still as possible for the next month. I'll take off the splint then and see how it's healing." The sling was tied off, and she turned to regard the boy. "How are you feeling?"

James grunted, but a glance at his father made him push back the terrible throb in his arm. He couldn't stand it if his father saw him cry. "It's all right...long as I don't move it."

"Good. Don't." She turned to his parents. "He can go home now. Just be sure he rests that arm. If it becomes too painful, bring him in and I'll give him something for it."

"Thanks, Doc," said James' mother with a slight smile. "We'll pay you soon as we can manage."

"That's fine."

Gingerly the young man slid off the exam table and followed his parents out the door. The doctor frowned as Colleen and Brian filed in, grimacing.

"Is James gonna be OK?" asked Colleen.

Dr. Quinn nodded. "Yes...but I'm curious. While his arm was broken in a way that would suggest a fall, it couldn't have happened just from tripping. Did either of you see what happened?"

Brian gave a guilty frown, then piped up. "I...I was doin' cartwheels...or tryin' to...and James said anybody could do that. Then he said he was gonna do a flip."

_Gymnastics again. I can guess what put that idea into his head._ The doctor's frown deepened. "A flip? Has he done that before?"

Colleen pursed her lips. "No. Everybody knew he couldn't. Brian and I told him not to...but he did it anyway." Her arms knotted and she sighed.

The doctor shook her head. "Well, I'm afraid that's what happens when children try to do dangerous stunts. They get hurt." A disturbing thought formed in her head. "Didn't you say Clara sometimes does her stunts in the schoolyard with children watching?"

Brian nodded, frowning as if he knew where his mother's train of thought was headed. "Yeah, but she never wanted 'em to try anything. She always said tryin' stuff like that without someone teachin' ya is dangerous."

"She did?"

"Yeah, all the time. It's what she kept tellin' me when she was teachin' me...don't try anything you're not ready for."

Somehow Dr Mike wasn't surprised. Still, there was a sense of guilt for immediately blaming Clara for Brian's near-disaster in the barn. Children were children, and often did not do as they were told. They were also known imitators. Michaela sighed. It was hard to know how to feel about such a difficult matter. The fact remained that Clara meant no harm to anyone, least of all the children. Unfortunately not everyone knew that, and the town was quick to point fingers and find a scapegoat.

True to Dr. Mike's worries, word spread quickly about the schoolyard incident. Jake and Loren, true to form, used it as evidence that the 'cross-dresser' was a bad influence on the town and should leave. All too many agreed with them, and soon ninety percent of the town was calling for Clara's removal. By that evening, the matter was taken directly to the Reverend. As much as he protested, Loren and the others had insisted on calling a town meeting that Saturday.

Clara, having been gone all day to give Jasper a bit of exercise, didn't hear about the meeting and so rode up to the church at 3 in the afternoon as usual for the piano lesson.

She knew something was amiss upon seeing the multitude of wagons parked outside. With a twisting stomach, she mounted the steps. A loud argument reached her ears at the doorway, and she stopped to listen while still remaining out of sight.

"I'm not talkin' 'bout the piano," groused Loren Bray in a loud voice. "I'm talkin' 'bout the safety of our children!"

"Anybody can come to church every Sunday. It's what they do during the week that matters," added Jake Slicker.

"Yeah, Jake? Well you ain't exactly a saint," put in Sully in that quiet but firm voice of his.

Clara frowned in confusion. _What on earth...?_

Jake scoffed. "Maybe not, but I don't go 'round town in a dress, do I?" This comment was greeted with jeers and some laughter.

"For Heaven's sake, do you hear yourselves?" This was Dr. Mike in one of her well-known 'speech-making' voices. "Gossiping about a woman who's never done you any harm!"

"You call a child being hurt on her account 'no harm'?" demanded a firm female voice.

"That's right," put in Jake. "That never woulda happened if she'd never come. You see her out there every week, poisoning the minds of our younguns with that indecent flippin' of hers."

Clara's ears burned with shame. _They're talking about me...is that what this whole meeting is about?_ The young woman wished to sink through the floorboards.

"Children do foolish things whether or not they see an adult doing it or not," pointed out Dr. Mike.

"I'm sure she never meant any harm," put in Reverend Johnson, who sounded as though he was trying desperately to keep a handle on the situation. "Clara Braun has never been anything but kind with children."

"What about Brian?" said Loren in a rather quiet voice. "I'm sure I ain't the only one that's seen it. She's attached to the boy, but...there's somethin' not right about it. You all heard what almost happened to him in the barn. And it was her that caused it, teachin' him all those stunts."

"I'm surprised at you, Dr. Mike. I never would have thought you'd let your child around someone like that," remarked Jake.

"That's none of your concern, Mr. Slicker," said the doctor firmly. "She never meant for him to climb the loft, and she certainly never wanted anyone to be hurt-"

"Too late. A boy's got a broken arm. Who knows how much farther it'll go?"

"That's what I'm sayin'!" exclaimed Loren. "The plain fact is, she don't belong in our town. She wants the circus, let her go!"

"Loren!" cried the Reverend in protest. But it was clear that he and Dr. Mike were in the minority. The din of the church rose to a fever pitch, calling for the 'crazy woman' to be driven out of town.

Clara's eyes stung with anger and hurt and her stomach wrenched._ I never should have stayed here!_ Stricken by the realization that an entire town had rejected her, the woman stumbled back into the alcove, knocking over a pile of hymnals in the process.

The noise made the entire assemblage look up to see the tearful, hurt Clara standing in the doorway.

Reverend Johnson's face fell with guilt and apology. "Clara...?"

Tears overflowing her cheeks as she stared at the unwavering crowd, Clara backed up, then turned and ran out the door. All she could think of was wanting to leave as soon as possible...right that moment.

Johnson's face fell and he swiftly left the pulpit to run after her. "Clara!" He raced outside to find a crying woman fumbling with her horses' reins. He quickly ran up to her. "Clara, please...please try to understand-"

Clara spun to face him, hurt staining her face. "What is there to understand? The only thing I understand is that every single person in that room wishes I was gone."

"No! Not everyone," protested the Reverend. "People here have come to care for you. What about Dorothy? And Grace, and Robert E? They want you to stay. So does Dr Mike. And..." He blinked at his moist eyes and took Clara's hand. "I want you to stay."

"And what about the hundred other people?" asked Clara bitterly. She pulled her hand away. "No. The only thing I've done here is cause division. They're right. Everyone will be better off if I'm gone."

"Clara..." Reverend Johnson felt his heart tearing down the middle.

Tears streamed down Clara's cheeks as she gathered Jasper's reins. "Go tell your people they're getting their wish."

A lump threatened to overtake Johnson's throat. He put his hand on Clara's stirrup. "Please...don't go...I..."

Clara offered the Reverend a sad smile. "Goodbye, Timothy." And with that, she wheeled Jasper around and heeled him into a gallop, a cloud of dust rising behind her.

In that moment Reverend Timothy Johnson made the decision of his life. He would leave his bigoted congregation behind and go after the woman. Setting his jaw, he walked around the back of the church, untied the horse, and leapt onto the animal's back without bothering to saddle it. With a kick, he aimed the animal for the Eastern Road, where Clara had gone.

He couldn't let her leave..not until he'd told her how he felt.

Clara rode hard, blinking the rapid tide of tears as she made straight for the Quinn homestead. Her purpose was clear, her resolve, iron.

She would ride back to the homestead just long enough to gather her things, and then she would be gone. The cold weather nor the long journey did not phase her in the least. All Clara Braun wanted was to get as far away from this town as possible. Bitterly did she repent of listening to the well-meaning lady doctor.

_I should have left weeks ago. Maybe none of this would have happened._ She choked back another sob as the homestead came into view.

As Clara packed her saddlebags, she was glad that the children had gone swimming. She couldn't bear the thought of telling them goodbye...especially Brian. The boy had been her first friend, and she had grown to love him the way she had loved Dylan, the nephew she had left behind in Sacramento. Now, just like Dylan, she was leaving Brian.

The woman choked back another sob as she loaded the saddlebags into the horse. _I'm sorry, kiddo. I'll miss you._

With one last look at the place she had called home for the last seven weeks, Clara turned and rode away, heading East.

With the pace at which Reverend Johnson was going, he doubted ever catching up with Clara. She surprised him by trotting back along the road from the old Sully homestead. His high spirits at seeing her fizzled out when he saw the loaded saddlebags tied to Jasper's back.

Clara did not take long to see him. Her head snapped up upon seeing him.

"Clara...?" It was all Timothy could say through his closed throat.

Clara pressed her lips together with the pain of seeing him. _Don't...just go away. _Jasper, who had been walking off his two-mile gallop, was kicked back into a trot.

"Clara, wait!" cried Timothy. He heeled his horse into a canter to catch up with her.

"You're not changing my mind, Reverend," insisted Clara when she saw him out of the corner of her eye.

"I could try, couldn't I?"

"Nothing you say can change how your town feels."

Timothy sighed. "No...probably not...but nothing they say can change how _I_ feel." He bucked up his courage and rode his horse in front of Jasper. "And I can't let you leave until you hear me out."

Clara looked skyward, trying to fight more tears. "Please, just...don't say it. Don't say anything."

_Here goes..._Timothy took a deep breath before looking into Clara's eyes as best he could. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. You are the strongest and most patient, talented, pious, and beautiful woman I've ever met...and I love you." His voice cracked, but he held his gaze.

Clara's head snapped up. She was going to deny it, tell the clergyman he was crazy...but then she saw the look of utter honesty in his eyes. He meant it. The realization that someone loved her for who she was brought the most fleeting sense of joy she'd ever felt before it faded. Timothy's look of pleading tore a hole in her heart, and she looked away. "Don't say that..."

"But I mean it," insisted Timothy. "Please, Clara...please don't leave."

"If it was just you, I would," whispered Clara, her face twisting with hurt. "But it isn't. They're not going to change. I've seen it before. To them, I'm a freak. Let them think that. I'll leave them in peace and they'll never see me again. If you love me, don't ask me to do something I can't...and I can't stay...not even for you." Trying unsuccessfully to blink away the burning in her eyes, Clara turned Jasper around the Reverend's horse and back into a canter.

Reverend Johnson didn't have much time to sit on his horse and wonder what to do. A distant thunder had caught his ears. _Odd. The sky is clear..._He frowned and looked about, wondering what was going on. Instead of fading away, the 'thunder' seemed to grow closer and closer, as if coming from the ground itself.

It was with a start that the Reverend realized what this sound was. A stampede...and it was headed right for Clara.

The wild scream of a frightened horse bugled across the meadow, followed by the scream of a woman.

Timothy's heart rose into his throat. "Clara!" Once more he kicked his own horse into a gallop.

Clara had heard the stampeding horses and identified the sound long before the Reverend had. Jasper heard it, too, and came to an uneasy stop right in the middle of the trail. He wheeled, snorted, and toe-danced about, refusing to go further.

"Come on, boy, come on!" Clara tried desperately to move him. They had gone into a shallow valley and the only way out was forward or back...and the horses were coming from behind. They had to move or they would be caught in the stampede. "Heyahh! Move, Jasper!" She kicked him and even slapped his rump with the reins.

All this did was make Jasper panic even more. The whites of his eyes showed and his ears lay back. He began to buck and rear, stomping and whinnying in fright.

Clara was thrown from his back, left wrist tangled in the reins. She screamed upon looking up.

A large herd of wild mustangs rounded the corner, snorting and blowing.

Jasper panicked and took off, dragging Clara for a short ways until the reins dragged beneath a fallen log and took her hand with it. Now Jasper was caught fast and Clara's arm was trapped under the log, her wrist and hand exposed on the other side...with the horses. Somehow the reins were untangled and Jasper ran loose, but Clara was still caught fast.

She screamed again. '"Help! Help me!"

Reverend Johnson raced forward, bringing his horse to a sudden stop as he watch the herd pass by. "Clara!" he shouted, looking in vain for the acrobat. "Clara!"

The wild whinny of a horse made him turn and look just as Jasper took off running. But then, where was Clara?

"Help me!" came her voice.

Timothy Johnson had never been so frustrated in his life. He heard her calls, but couldn't see her, even riding into the herd and looking about. He called until his was hoarse, still with no sign of Clara.

The herd passed, leaving behind nothing but a tearful preacher, his horse, and a cloud of dust. Then someone down near a large fallen log whimpered.

Reverend Johnson dropped from his horse to look around...and froze in horror.

Clara lay bruised and dusty, pinned beneath the log. On the opposite side her hand had been all but torn apart. Skin and muscle lay in bloody shreds while fragments of bone stuck out in all directions. It didn't even look like a hand anymore, save for the single untouched fingernail on her delicate thumb.

She'd been trampled.

The woman, who was trembling with shock and pain, stared at him with side eyes. "H-help me," she cried in a ghost of a whimper.

"Oh, Lord!" The Reverend closed his eyes for a moment to swallow the bile that had risen and dropped beside Clara, stroking her hair. "I'm here, Clara. I'm here." He turned to look at the log, trying to figure out how to move it without further injuring Clara's hand. In the meantime he tore off his jacket and laid it over her.

_Oh, God, what can I do? She needs help...but I can't move that log by myself...and I can't leave her here!_ Unable to think beyond his worry, the brokenhearted Reverend could do nothing but pray. His lips didn't work, and all that came out of his mouth was a desperate plea;

"Oh, God...God, help us...God, please...please help..."


End file.
